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“Do I ever,” she laughs. “I mean, he’s old but damn he’s still hot. I’d jump on it.”
I laugh too. I’m relaxed, comfortable in a way I don’t often feel. Especially since I came back from Scotland. Moira is friendly and exudes it in that way which makes you feel like I’ve known her for years. There’s something about her, something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s as if she’s… and I lose the train of thought.
She’s staring up at the stars and I realize the conversation is back in my court. Say something. What? I’ve never been good at small talk. Socializing has always been painful, not a skill I’ve developed.
“You in school too?” I ask, falling back on the most common question for twenty-somethings in a college town.
“Ach.” She shakes her head while that single syllable echoes in my head, calling me back. The number of times Alesoun made that same dismissive sound burned it into my memory. “I was but I’m taking some time off.”
“That can be helpful,” I say.
“That’s what I told myself,” she says with a shrug. “But it’s been three semesters and I still haven’t returned. I’ll figure it out, you know, sooner or later.”
“What is your major?”
She laughs, shakes her head, and fiery red ringlets of hair bounce freely around as if they have a life of their own. As her head moves, something tugs at my attention but I can’t figure out what it is. Like maybe if I squint hard or tilt my head just right or do something I’ll see more than I am. It’s an odd sensation, feeling like I’m missing something that’s right in front of me. The smoking couple move back inside. I not towards the tree and we walk over rather than stand on the side of the street.
“I didn’t ever declare,” she says. “I like everything about this world; how am I supposed to pick one thing to specialize in?”
Everything about this world? What an odd phrasing.
“Cool.” I smile. “What brings you here tonight?”
“Here? I’m a major witch, can’t you tell?”
“Uhm, no, sorry.” I shrug. “Is there a symbol or something I should recognize?”
She snorts. “Ach, I was kidding. I can’t be a worse witch than the ones in there reading incantations from an internet search on their phone.”
I look back at the house and chuckle. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. It’s all a bit, underwhelming I guess.”
“Underwhelming,” Moira says. “Good word choice. You sure you’re not an English major?”
“God no,” I protest. “English was my worst class. I was premed but switched.”
“Med? You wanted to be a doctor?”
“More my dad wanted me to be a doctor.”
“Ah, the dreaded my parents made me do it of college attendance.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Trust me, it is.”
We’re standing under the lone maple tree that adorns the front yard, its long limbs casting strange shadows as the large leaves break up the soft moonlight. Those shadows dance in the silence that lies between us. The entire scene feels like I’m in a dreamworld, only half-based in any reality.
That strange sensation of wrongness moves along the edges of my thoughts. Not quite forming into a full idea, but more a nebulous, shadowy creature in my head. The chirping song of crickets, the drone of tires on asphalt, and the hum of the streetlamps are a low buzz in the background that becomes a metronome for the symphony of strange surrounding me.
My brain itches. Such a weird sensation. Maybe I should see a doctor. Get some tests run, get some pills or something. A car turns onto the street. Its headlights sweep across us and flood our dark world with halogen fueled white. Moira curses, covering her eyes with her arm. I turn my head away. As my gaze passes over Moira she seems taller and sharper than she is, and for that brief moment I would have sworn I see wings.
Is she a Fae?
As fast as I see it the lights are gone and so is the image. I blink several times to clear the aftereffect halos from my eyes, watching her in my peripheral, hoping to see it again, but nothing. She’s a girl; a normal, everyday woman. It’s the tiredness and desperation playing tricks. I really need to sleep.
“You look exhausted,” Moira observes. “Midterms rough this year?”
Midterms? Huh? Oh, shit.
