After arriving at my stop, I walk the few blocks to the library and am greeted by a person with short blue hair wearing dangly rainbow earrings and a pin with their name and pronouns on their lapel. The librarian, Petra, produces the book I’d placed on hold, and my body runs cold. It’s the exact same one from that night—though, as an adult and in broad daylight, it definitely seems like a silly gag gift you’d get at one of those touristy occult stores and not a serious witchcraft book that could alterthe fabric of reality. I take it tentatively. It’s not nearly as heavy as I remember, and though the cover gives the illusion of texture it’s merely a cleverly designed image. I’d assumed that by holding it I’d feel some sort of immense power—tingling in my extremities, a zap of electricity—but nothing. It seems to be an ordinary book. But I know better.
Taking the tome to one of the tables, I plunk myself down and flip it open to the index, looking for keywords likecureandfixandmend. Just when I’m beginning to lose hope, I find one that might work near the back.
I tap my finger against my lips as I read through the description. “‘Absorb this harm... carry away...?’ Okay, this might work. What do I need, eye of newt or something? What even is eye of... oh no.”
This is so much worse than eye of newt. Hell, I’d take the toenail clippings of my mortal enemy as an ingredient rather than what this spell actually needs.
Wronged parties must be present... If any members of the cursed party have passed, the spell must be spoken upon their grave.
“Well, I’m pretty sure she’s alive, so it won’t be that easy.”
The idea of contacting any of the girls from my past makes me want to hurl—but Courtney most of all. Not after what happened, all the things I’d done, the things I’d said. I haven’t spoken to her, or anyone else, since high school—deleting my social media and moving away made sure of that.
But running from my past has got me here, on the verge of losing everything I care about. Maybe it’s time to stop running.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m flipping my laptop open, navigating to Facebook, and reactivating my old account. Hundreds of ancient notifications and messages pop up. As I’d feared, several of them are teasing about the Queef Queen incident. But, to my surprise, several are concerned messages asking if I’m okay, if I need to talk, where I’ve gone.
Huh.
I give my head a shake. Something to think about later. After minimizing all of them I navigate to the Friends tab and scroll down to theC’s, searching for a face I recognize. But she’s not there.
Did Courtney delete me from Facebook? I wouldn’t be surprised. I search her name, but it’s not there, either. Maybe she deleted Facebook, too. Or she changed her name. Maybe she’s married. I scan through a list of mutual friends, and after several minutes I find someone with the same first name but a different last name. I click on the image, but she’s doing a headstand on a beach somewhere tropical and I can’t be sure if it’s her; the account is set to private. After a few more minutes of searching I go back to that account and mull it over. It could be her... but what if it’s not? Then I suppose I’ll be messaging nonsense to a stranger. No harm, no foul. What if itisher?
Now that I’m here, faced with the bright blue Message button, the thought of actually talking to Courtney makes me want to curl into the fetal position right on the floor of this library.
I’ve lived with the curse this long; is it really that bad? I can die alone, right? It happens all the time! Just me and my geriatric dogs watching old Ben Stiller rom-coms until my eventual demise... that’s not a bad life, right?
I’d felt that way once. But now I know how different life can be.
Now I know what it’s like to have Lex in my life. She’s the friend I didn’t know I could have, the friend I didn’t deserve. She’s the unexpected love I’d found when I’d long since given up. I love the way her piercing blue eyes bore right down into my soul. I love how rewarding her dimples are when she smiles. I love how factual she is while still seeing beauty in the little things. I love how warm her hand is when she holds mine, howcomforting her presence is when we wrap up with one another on the couch, how safe I feel when she makes love to my body, how much I relish cherishing hers, how we’ve only just begun and we have so much ahead of us...
If there is even a chance that facing my past means I get a future with Lex, then it will have been worth it. She’s worth fighting for.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I add Courtney as a friend, type out a message, and press Send.
I rest my elbows on the table and steeple my fingers, staring down at my laptop. Seconds pass. Minutes. Nothing happens.
Of course nothing is going to happen. It probably isn’t her, and even if it is, she would probably see my friend request, snort derisively, and swipe it away. I wouldn’t blame her. She has every reason to want no part of me in her life.
Just like Lex.
Slamming my laptop shut, I lay my forehead down on the pages of the book that held my last hope for a life full of love and light and happiness. Hopelessness washes over me as any possibility for the type of future I’d thought I might have slips away. My eyes well with tears, but I don’t fight them, letting them slip down my cheeks and blot the pages of the book that cursed me with the future I deserve.
chapter twenty-six
Zero Pride Left
“Dear, I hate to interrupt a good cry, but I’m afraid you might damage the book.”
Petra’s kind voice pulls me out of my vortex of doom just enough for me to realize they’re right; I’m going to cause irreparable damage if I keep up with my wailing.
“Not to mention,” they add, “this is a library. You have to cry quietly.”
I snuffle back a tear, the noise echoing through the silent space, and look up at the librarian with watery eyes. They gaze down at me with a kind, gentle expression, like they know exactly what it’s like to hit rock bottom and need a hand to pull you out of it.
“Sorry,” I manage, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “You can take this back. It’s not going to work.” I close the book and push it away from me.
Instead of taking it back, Petra sits in the chair next to me and folds their hands over the cover. “Why won’t it work? Maybe I can help. Tell me what’s going on.”
