"I hate everyone!" I shouted as I crossed the threshold of my house.
I didn't bother taking off my mother's coat or my shoes. I just barreled right to my parent's liquor cabinet and snatched their bottle of cheap tequila. Throwing my head back, I tossed the cap somewhere and took a greedy swig. The liquor spilled down my throat, but it jumped back up with a mighty vengeance. It was like getting knocked over the head with a baseball bat and I wanted more. I wanted this bottle to wreck me.
Daisy came jogging up to my feet with a curious look and my frozen heart melted into slush. I took another drink before dropping to the floor and scratching her ears. "Not you, Daisy. You'd never disappointed me. You're my perfect sweet little girl."
Nibbler meowed from the top of the grandfather clock. "You too, Nibbler... but sometimes..." I plopped all the way down to my butt like a tired toddler. "Sometimes, it feels like you two don't even love me without expecting something. I bet you guys love Mom and Dad more than me too."
This made me throw back another drink, but it went down the wrong pipe and I choked until I thought my brains were going to fly out of my nose. Groaning, I sniffled and checked my phone. A few missed calls from Jeremy. A couple of texts from Gretchen and Steven. Nothing from David.
The image of his laughter jumped back into my head like a once dead horror movie villain coming back to stab the final girl one last time and I winced. I didn't want to remember that. Then, I heard Jeremy's voice again, "Come on, Cal. Be a good sport."
I kept drinking, lugging the bottle and my sluggish body around the house, and knocking things down that reminded me of Jeremy, David, and love in general. My mother's flower vase that made me think of my almost kiss with David. Trash. The pictures of Jeremy and I celebrating his birthday. Tossed out the window. A sweatshirt he left behind from our last sleep over. Burned.
Nibbler meowed in approval.
I flicked the radio on, scanning until I found the loudest, most jumbled screaming metal music I could find and turned it all the way up. After another shot and a few turns around the living room, when the world was all swimmy and my body felt so heavy like warmed up playdough, I was finally feeling a smidge better.
"The perfect man. Ha!" I laughed at my own joke. "What does Jeremy's mom know about the perfect man? Look at her son!" I sipped the bottle and my whole body convulsed. "I know the formula for the perfect man. I've gone through enough bad ones to know..."
I shuffled, kind of dancing, kind of stumbling into the greenhouse attached to our house. The glossy windows were slick with dew and all separated and held together with thin green metal pieces. Sometimes, families made house calls with their pets, so the Keys house was ready to make any salve, potion, or incense. But today, this wasn't about the animals.
This was about making the perfect man.
"Alright," I started, taking one more drink before slamming the tequila bottle on the worktable. That last sip was like opening the door to the second level of inebriation. I had reached a blurry enlightenment, and nothing could stop me.
I eyed the cat and dog, my partners in crime. "We're gonna need a big pot..." My words came out muffled and soft like balls of cotton being fed through a meat grinder. "I'm thinking of making a man with more than just good looks. I'm not totally callous—don't look at me like that Nibbler, I so do like substance in a man."
I dragged my limp body to the kitchen, stumbling into the pantry and knocked over anything in my way, letting tubber ware and bowls roll across the floor to get to a hefty old caldron. With a grunt, I nearly threw my back out hauling the thing across the house. Dropping it in the living room, I half ran, half danced to the music still blasting while I hurried up the stairs to grab my pillow.
"Some goose feathers," I remarked. "To make my man gentle—oh! And my headphones so he's a good listener."
Giggling, I hurried downstairs with my goodies and dumped them into the caldron. I scavenged all around the house for ingredients, naming them off to the pets, "A dictionary! So, he's smart, but not pretentious. Chapstick—vanilla flavored so he's a good kisser. Of course, some roses, so he'll be romantic... I'll add some white chocolate too because I hate it and he can eat what I don't want."
With my treasures, I dragged the caldron back to the work room. There was a firepit in the middle of the room constructed for important matters like large quantities of potions and to make smores. I made a silent apology to my mother who banned me from touching matches while intoxicated because in a drunken haze I once set fire to the tablecloth instead of a pumpkin spice candle.
Dumping in some water, I started the boiling process. I shrugged and thought the water would be good anyways. The perfect man should be well hydrated.
I grabbed the neck of my tequila and took a swig while staring at my loot, thinking it over. There was obviously something missing. Humming, I walked around the garden and waited for inspiration. "I got it!"
Laughing, I grabbed a branch off a spice and ran up to the caldron. Holding up my wrist, I sprinkled on a bit of thyme and declared, "Look at the thyme! I should be in bed." I tipped my wrist and let the spice trickle into the pot. "He must have a sense of humor and..." I rolled up my sleeve and held my hand over the pot, not yet feeling the heat. I swept my hand inside and hoped for a little affection from it.
"There's still something I'm missing."
This pot was full of good stuff.
Full of stuff I ruined and sacrificed for this potion. Taking out my wand for more focus, I used it to stir the concoction and grabbed a few more last minute, more traditional ingredients like goat's blood, chicken hearts, old worn leather, and bottled lightening. The little bolts danced inside the clear jar. I could feel the electricity through the glass, enough to raise the hair on my arms and to make my teeth hum.
Once it hit the surface of the potion, the air cracked, and I was blown several feet away. I stepped on Nibbler's tail, who shrieked and made Daisy bark. They scampered, rushing right between my legs and knocking into the caldron.
"Guys! Watch out!" I cried, but it was too late.
The mixture splashed up the sides and drenched them. I sighed as the fury menaces left a trail of potion as the ran through the living room and out of sight. I shook my head, setting down the tequila again. I watched the mixture turn from shades of red, across the rainbow to land on blue again and back.
"It's just stuff though. I need something to give it life—" That was when it hit me. I ran out of the workroom, scaring the wits out of the animals who were trying to shake the mixture off their fur and failing. Nibbler dragged her sandpaper tongue along one paw and froze, immediately regretting that decision.
I threw myself at the bathroom door, using the threshold to keep standing. Right there. In all its glory, standing upright in a small cup by the sink was David Hale's red toothbrush.
I needed life.
And as far as I knew, David was a living, breathing and magical man. I snatched it and threw it in the caldron with the rest. The mixture boiled with colossal bubbles and sparkled like there were tiny fireworks going off inside. These little sparks were so excited, they tried jumping out of the caldron, but died out before they touched the floor. The whole room smelled like vanilla and mint toothpaste.
"Now to find my prince."
I stepped outside, which made him realize a storm had brewed. The rain soaked me to the bone immediately, but I just raked my soaked hair back and trudged into the woods, searching for a small pond that I knew was around here somewhere. I took out my wand and ignited just the tip, using it as flashlight to only trip half as much as I would without it.
A crack of lightening pierced the sky, flashing the woods with light. It lit a handful of little woodland frogs jumping across the forest floor. I grinned, dropping into the mud, and lunging for the closest frog. The little cold rubbery thing nearly slipped out of my hands, but I encased it carefully as if it were as fragile as my sanity.
"It's alright, it's okay," I promised the croaking little creature. "You're the chosen one. Not many things get to say that. I've never gotten to say that."
I brought the frog inside and took him straight to the caldron. Taking a deep breath, I had one final word to say, "If this works, I am going to prove absolutely everyone wrong... if it doesn't..." I shrugged. "Well, tough luck, I guess. Frog soup for dinner-Whoa!"
The frog squirmed enough, fought enough to fight my grip, and leapt from my hold.
Right into the pot.
He dove into the pink bubbling mixture with little splash. Little enough to win gold at the Olympics. I took a meager step forward, trying to catch a peek of the inside. The boil frothed, bubbles climbing to the top faster than I could react. The pink potion shot up from the middle like a geyser, crashing into the ceiling and raining down. The power of the blast knocked me into the wall. My back slammed the worktable below it and I tumbled off into a soggy puddle of bones, mud, and ticklish potion.
My head swam, my vision burning in and out until the darkness took over. My conscious fizzled out like flat soda pop and I surrendered to the night. My eyes were too heavy to open... but I heard the caldron creak. Something like footsteps crossed the room. I could feel the heat wafting from someone's body as they arrived by his side.
A voice deeper than a wishing well and grittier than sand inside the ocean said, "I've wanted to speak... but now, I've found myself speechless. Let's get you to bed, shall we?"