“Close that door, child. You letting spirits wander in and out like they paying rent,” she rasped, her voice crackling like the flame beside her.
I pulled the door shut, sealing the world outside.
Ma O shuffled over to her rocking chair, motioning for me to sit across from her in a chair carved with symbols.
“Sit. You looking like the devil been sitting on your chest.”
As I took a seat, the wood creaked like it had its own opinion of me.
“Ain’t the devil, but close enough," I replied, trying to inject a hint of humor into the heavy atmosphere.
Ma O studied me closely. “So, what trouble you bring me this time?”
I smirked, trying to dodge it. “Damn, I can’t just check on you without me having to be going through something?”
“Your father came here whenever he couldn’t sleep. You?” Her crooked finger pointed accusingly in my direction, a playful yet firm gesture. “You only show up when death starts breathing down your neck.”
My jaw tightened again, a grim acceptance of her words.
I leaned back in the old wooden chair, the weight of my troubles pressing heavily on me, and let out a long, tired sigh that felt like it came from my very bones.
"I gotta marry somebody I don’t really know,” I finally admitted, the words slipping out as if they were a confession. “Don’t trust her and probably won’t ever love.”
Ma O remained quiet, her features revealing little, but her pause carried the weight of someone who understood far more than she said.
I continued. “She’s the woman who’ssupposedlycarrying my child.” I rubbed my jaw slowly. “I don’t wanna marry her, though. But if that baby really mine, then I gotta do what I gotta do.”
“The bylaws,” Ma O muttered knowingly.
I nodded. “Right.”
She leaned in slightly, her sharp focus piercing through the haze of my turmoil. “So, you came here in hopes that I could stopthatfrom happening?”
I hesitated, then produced a half-smile. “Well… yeah. If you can.”
That laugh of hers came out low and amused. “You are your father’s son.”
Ma O reached beneath the table between us and pulled out a small wooden bowl darkened with age and wear.
“Merge, my gift isn’t just for breaking curses; it’s for discernment. I see light where it hides and rot where it dresses itself pretty. Let’s consult the ones who see clearer than you.”
I frowned. “I ain’t here for no hocus pocus.”
She chuckled then leaned back. “Then what in the world are you doing in a conjure woman’s house, baby?”
I didn’t answer because she was right.
Ma O always was.
So, instead of arguing, I leaned back and watched as she worked. “Continue.”
The sound of her bracelets clinking together filled the still air as she leaned over the bowl, her movements deliberate and rhythmic. One by one, she dropped silver coins, dried herbs, and tiny bones from some creature I couldn’t name.
Then, in a voice so low it felt like it belonged to another era, she began to whisper. The words flowed through the room, heavy and ancient, evoking a sense of time before time itself. The air grew dense and the flickering candles around us seemed to lean closer to Ma O as if drawn in by her voice.
When she finally lifted her head toward me, her eyes appeared transformed. They no longer looked old but rather exhausted, like they'd witnessed too much life already.
“Merge,” she muttered softly, her voice tinged with concern, “you’re tangled in something unnatural.”
