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Iglance at Mama from beneath my lashes, mindlessly stirring my coffee with the fancy red straw in the cup. I watch Mama take an unhurried bite from her sandwich. Mama had suggested we come to a cafe in town where she could have a hamburger and iced coffee while we discussed things because she’d driven to the clubhouse straight from the airport, and she was famished. I watch her eat her food with relish, but I can’t as much as take a sip from the coffee I’d ordered. My stomach is all up in knots and twists. I’ve tried not to ponder what’s behind Mama’s casual disposition.
“How was Africa?” I ask, finally finding the courage to break the tentative silence in which we wine and dine.
Mama looks up from her food, a fond smile tilting her lips. “Trè byen,” she replies in Creole. “It was an interesting experience, eye-opening.”
I nod, unsure how to respond to that. “That’s… great.”
“You’re all tensed up, Victoria,” Mama says. Her deep, dark eyes have gone from light to intense in just a fraction of a second. There’s a significant shift in the atmosphere, and I know that the time has come to dance to the tune I played months ago.
Mama placed her half-eaten burger on the plate in front of her. “Do you regret the path you chose?”
I did not have to think of a response. “No, Mama. I don’t.”
“You think it’s acceptable that you practice dark sorcery as long as it saves a life?”
“No, Mama,” I reply, holding her gaze. Looking into Mama’s piercing dark eyes is in itself a challenge, but avoiding them is not an option.
Mama raises her eyebrows at me over the rim of her coffee cup. “You contradict yourself, child,” Mama says in a neutral tone.
“I did not think about what’s evil or what’s good, Mama. I did what I had to do to save a dying man in my care.”
“All actions have consequences, you know?
“I’ll pay whatever price.”
Mama does not respond this time. She picks up her abandoned hamburger and eats again. I drop my gaze on the table, keeping myself occupied with the smooth glass surface while I wait for Mama to finish her meal. It felt like an eternity before Mama polished off the last bit of her hamburger and sat back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. I watch her reach into the boring black handbag that she always carries around and take out a familiar-looking object, holding it out to me. I gape in disbelief at the oval-shaped stone tag in her hands, wondering at what moment I’d wake up to realize it was just a dream. But then again, I don’t dare to blink, lest this moment vanish like a dream.
“Is that… That’s…”
“An identity tag,” Mama replies, holding out the tag to me. “This is only meant to be carried by a verified member of the voodoo community.”
“I… what about…?” I shake my head slowly, unable to wrap my head around the fact that I got the one thing I’ve worked for all my life. “What about the consequences you talked about?”
Mama shrugs. “The assignment was to save the man. Nobody said anything about the methods you needed to achieve the goal.”
“What?”
I gape at Mama, blinking rapidly in disbelief. Mama is not one to bend the rules for anyone… But for some reason, this meeting is going differently than I imagined it.
“You see, Victoria… We’ve all been faced with making difficult choices, and oftentimes the world doesn’t give a fuck about the efforts behind your choice but the results it produces. Seer would have died if you had done nothing but fed him herbs, and you wouldn’t have gotten that tag in your hand. It’s as simple as that. No spell is dark when the intention behind it is pure.” Her eyes search and find mine. Her lips seem to tilt into the barest hint of a smile, but there was no mistaking the pride in her deep dark eyes.
“Your intentions, Victoria,” Mama says slowly, keeping me pinned in place with her eyes. “They were born out of love.”
“Love,” I repeat foolishly.
Mama’s lips widen into a knowing grin. “You love the man, don’t you?”
I see no point in denying the truth anymore. “He makes me happy,” I reply simply.
“But you are going to leave, anyway.” This time, Mama wasn’t asking a question.
“I have to.”
Mama nods. She doesn’t ask for my reasons, and I don’t feel inclined to explain them. We sit in silence for a long moment, sipping slowly from our coffee cups.
“You know,” Mama drawls, breaking the serene silence. “He’s not completely healed until he gets his powers back.”
I didn’t respond to that. I didn’t need to. I understood Mama’s subtle hint. She’s making up an excuse for me… an excuse to hold on to my fantasy a lot longer. I’m no longer bound by duty or rules. This time, I have a choice to stay and live a dream… or to go and live my dream.
