All that work. All that pain. All that suffering. All that happiness and pleasure and friendship and longing...
And I’m back here—alone with my dog and wishing I could have the kind of life I so temporarily grasped.
chapter twenty-five
Bigger Tits Would Have Been Nice
I stare at a blank Word document. The curser blinks, mocking me. Fuck this blinking curser. It can go to the final depths of hell reserved only for people who don’t pick up their dog’s poop on walking paths... and for people who steal ideas from their co-workers.
Despite all the drama going on in my life, and the way I’ve single-handedly imploded it, I have no choice but to try to salvage what little I have left: my career.
My phone dings with a message and I’m relieved to have a break from staring at my computer screen. However, the name I was hoping to pop up isn’t there. Instead, the name I see fills me with dread. Olsen.
I don’t even need to read it to know what it’s going to say. I told him I’d call him and he hasn’t heard from me, so naturally he’ll be asking if I’m okay. The Perfect Guy strikes again. How is it possible that I’ve found myself in a place in my life where the type of guy I’d always hoped and dreamt for is practicallybegging me to be with him, and yet I want nothing to do with him?
Picking up my phone, I swipe Olsen’s message away without reading it and navigate to my text history with Lex.
Lex hasn’t said anything since our argument yesterday. I scroll back in time through our messages, to a few days ago when everything was amazing and I had the best friend in the entire world, who also happened to be my lover. I couldn’t have dreamt of something so wonderful.
I thought what we had only existed in the movies: someone who would drop everything to be there for you, who was quick to compliment and careful to correct, who appreciated all your quirks and idiosyncrasies instead of passing judgment on them. In real life people are too wrapped up in their own worlds to truly be there for someone else. But Lex was. Lex showed me what it meant to be a friend, and to be a lover. And now she’s gone. I’ll never recover from the comedown of such an intense high.
Damn me for trying to fix the curse. I’ve been saddled with it for a reason.
I toss my phone, letting it skip across my countertop, turning my attention back to that damn blinking curser and tauntingly empty blank page. But it’s no use. There’s no way I can actually follow through on the idea I’d stolen from Jasleen. My terrible decisions aren’t just affecting me, or Lex, or Olsen, but my work and all the kids who’d benefit from funding on a project like this.
At least I’m working from home so I can stew in my mediocrity without Jasleen witnessing it—until tomorrow, which is when this project is due, which is also the day of Gabe’s play, which is when I told Lex I’d be there for her, while Olsen is also hoping I’d be there for him, and their parents will be there, who are excitedto meet Olsen’s new girlfriend...
Fuck.
I slam my laptop shut and glance around my too-quiet home. Everything seems emptier, though nothing’s changed. It’s like someone came along and snatched the little sunshine that’s usually streaming through my tiny basement windows.
I need air. Or a hug. Maybe a margarita.
Waking Winston from his fourth nap of the morning, I attach his leash and follow him out the door. I’m far too miserable to give a shit about the nice day, or how it’s the perfect balance of sun and cloud, or how lucky I am to be outside right now rather than cooped up in a little office. How dare this day be all beautiful when I can’t even appreciate it.
If only I could go back in time. Back to before I stole this idea from Jasleen. Before I had that confusing conversation with Olsen. Back to when everything between Lex and me was perfect. Back to when I thought we actuallyhadfixed the curse.
I suppose if I was going back in time I’d just go way, way back to high school and stop the whole curse thing from happening in the first place. I’d take that witchcraft book and throw it out the window. I can visualize it perfectly: sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by candles and chips andCosmomagazines, tarot cards and a Ouija board set aside, the witchcraft book with the dark purple cover and gold filigreed words sprawled across it, cobbling together different spells to create the curse, and—
Wait.
I stop in my tracks, yanking Winston on his leash.
If a spell got me into this mess... then maybe one can get me out of it. Perhaps there’s a reversal potion or “fix my fucked-up life” tincture I could make. I jog back, reinvigorated with the first hint of an idea to right all the wrongs in my life.
The moment I get home I wrench my laptop open, minimizing the evil blank page and its spiteful blinking curser, andopen a search for the library. I can visualize the colour and the texture of the book, but the title is evading me. After scrolling through a few searches for “witchcraft,” “spell book,” and “curses,” and coming up empty, I dial the number for the library. A kind voice answers the phone.
“Hi! Sorry, I know this is a long shot, but I’m hoping you can help me.” I describe the book to the librarian on the other end, who listens patiently.
“Hmm.” They consider my long-winded babbling depiction of the book I vaguely remember from my childhood. “I think you meanWicca for Novice Witches.”
I Google the name of the book, and the familiar cover pops up. “That’s it!”
“We have a copy here at our downtown location. Want me to place it on hold for you, dear?”
“Yes!” I all but scream into the receiver. I say goodbye quickly before grabbing my purse, shoving my laptop inside, and launching myself out the door. I drop Winston off with Pat before running to the station.
Tiny bubbles of hope rise in my chest as I take the SkyTrain downtown. The answer to all my problems could be within those pages. Then I can fix this entire mess and get back to being happy! Once I get rid of the curse for good I’ll go talk to Lex. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe we can go back to the way things were before the curse ruined everything.
