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“What happened?” She said gently. Her eyes softened when she looked at me. Mr. Boo, my familiar, came out of the cabin and rubbed against my legs. I reached down and picked up the fat, black-and-white cat and held him in my arms for a minute. Somehow, Boo always managed to calm my racing heart when I felt stressed. I might not do magic, but Grams had given him to me just the same.
“Every witch should have a familiar,” she had told me that day. Boo had been a full-grown cat already. No one knew exactly how old he was or where he’d come from, but Gram had chosen him and he turned out to be just as special as she thought he would.
“It’s nothing, Mémère,” I told her. “I just got caught up at work.”
“Did you get busy at work, Maxine, or did someone make you stay late out of spite?” She didn’t ask it in an accusing way, but I knew what she was thinking. Mémère didn’t like me working for my boss. She didn’t understand why I wanted to work or why I thought it was important that I have a job of some sort.
Any sort.
In her mind, my time would be better spent helping out on the property, working in the yard, or memorizing spells from the big, heavy book she kept on the kitchen table. The pages were worn with years of use, but Grams told me every day how important those spells were.
Not that I’d ever use them.
The little cabin we lived in was surrounded by a wide yard and then trees for as far as the eye could see. Our driveway itself was almost a mile long. That’s how hidden away we were. Unless someone was looking for us specifically, they’d never find us. We didn’t even get mail at the house. Everything went to a post office box in town that one of us would check on a weekly basis.
Mémère and I were isolated, and she worried about me.
“You know Tony likes to have me stay late sometimes,” I finally said. It wasn’t a lie, but it was sort of a half-truth. I didn’t know if Tony actually liked having me stay or
if he just liked having me miserable. Did I get paid for staying late? Yeah. Of course. This wasn’t some sort of illegal café. That said, it was still a nightmare working late after I’d already been on my feet for an eight-hour shift.
My grandmother sighed and shook her head.
“This man is no good for you,” she said.
“He’s not my man,” I pointed out. I didn’t date. Mémère knew that. A lot of things kept me from relationships and one of the biggest reasons was that I didn’t want to date a magic user. It wasn’t my thing. I couldn’t use magic. I had never been able to get even the simplest spell to work. My grandmother did her best to train me in the ways of her people, but somehow, I’d just never managed to pick things up.
If it bothered her, she was kind enough not to tell me.
Still, I didn’t want to date someone who could use magic. Part of it was a safety thing. Self-preservation was important and I didn’t want to be in a relationship with someone who might do a love spell on me. I just hated the idea of not knowing what was going on.
I hated the idea that someone might take advantage of me.
“He’s still cruel,” Mémère said. She shook her head. She was disappointed. In me? In the situation? I wasn’t sure, but I nodded in agreement and moved past her and into the house. I dropped my bag on the living room sofa and walked into the attached kitchen. The book with Mémère’s spells, as always, was spread out in the center of the table. Gram had been working on spells this afternoon. Herbs and pots and potions and bottles were on every flat surface in the room.
“What were you working on?” I asked her, but she only shook her head gently. Grams never liked to talk about the spells she was doing. I didn’t really understand why it had to be a secret. She wanted me to trust her, but there were so many things she wouldn’t reveal to me.
“Are you hungry?” Mémère asked, and I knew there was to be no discussion on what she was trying to do with her spellbook. It didn’t make sense to me. Sometimes it seemed like she had just as many secrets as Mom and Dad.
“I ate at work,” I lied. She looked at me carefully. Was she trying to see if I was lying? I totally was, but this time, there was no way for her to tell. Not unless she used some sort of truth serum on me. I wouldn’t put it past her, but this wasn’t something I was ready to talk about today. Not with Grams.
“If you change your mind...” Her voice trailed off and I nodded.
“Don’t worry. I’m 19, Grams. I’m old enough to make myself something to eat.”
I kissed her softly on the cheek and turned to the little staircase that led upstairs. Our home was very cozy, but it was also very small. The second floor of the cabin had only two little bedrooms and a tiny bathroom with a sink, a toilet, and a shower. I went up the stairs and sat at the very top for a minute. I listened to see if I could figure out what Gram was up to.
I heard her bustling around in the kitchen for awhile, touching things and whispering, but she was so quiet that I couldn’t make out the words. When Boo came up the narrow staircase and rubbed against my legs, I reached for him and pet him softly. Instantly, he started to purr.
“At least I have you,” I whispered, and I pulled him into my lap. I held Boo for a long time. Then I stood up and carried him into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I locked the door. It didn’t matter. If Gram needed to come in, she could cast a spell and be in my space in like, two seconds.
But the lock made me feel like I was tucking myself away from everything: my boss, my job, my lack of friends. I used it because it gave me a little bit of security I wouldn’t otherwise have. I lay on my bed and looked at the ceiling.
“What am I going to do, Boo?”
He purred and plopped his fat body onto my tummy. I pet him as I looked up at the white popcorn finish on the ceiling.I imagined that I was back home – at my real home – with my mom and dad. They’d been gone for years. Sometimes it felt like forever. I missed them still.
People always said that life got better. They said things like “time heals all wounds” and “one day, it won’t hurt so bad,” but that wasn’t true, was it? Things still hurt. I still missed the way my mom sang songs while she cooked spaghetti and the way my dad laughed as he danced in the kitchen with her. I missed the way they read me bedtime stories and how they used to count the stars with me. I missed everything about them.
