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“Honey, it could exactly kill me, or worse, it could kill you. Did you have to set up shop in a small town? Couldn’t you at least come back to the city?” she asks.
“I might face some hostility, but I am confident I will win the townsfolk over with my charm,” I say prying a clump of dirt out of the root of a marshmallow plant.
“You better not mean that literally,” she says exasperated, “you remember how fickle charm spells can be.”
“No Mom, I don’t mean it literally. I mean with the charming wit I got from Dad’s side of the family.” I say rolling my eyes.
“Be careful, that’s all I am saying. Listen, honey, I have to go, I’m sorry, your dad’s just getting out of his doctor’s appointment. We’ll talk about this more later, okay?”
“Okay,” I say sighing. “Love you and tell Dad I said hello.”
“Love you too,” she says hanging up the phone.
My hands are still wet, so I leave the phone between my cheek and shoulder despite the ache in my neck while I finish with the last of the herbs. My mom is a witch, and my father is a human, but he knew all about her ‘condition’ when he asked her to marry him.
It’s not something our kind goes around talking about openly, but we do exist. Some witches operate alone, and others join covens. All my life I’ve been mostly left to my own devices. My mother and I have never been part of a coven.
Mom’s been too busy caring for Dad to pay much attention to what I am doing. Her lack of attention was hard on me when I was younger, but now I understand. Romantic love is an overwhelming force in our family.
I’ve watched as my aunts pined over lovers. I am determined never to fall in love with someone who doesn’t accept all parts of me. That’s partially why I’ve decided to open my little apothecary, it’s my form of soft disclosure to the world about who and what I am.
As I finish with the herbs, I set my phone down and grab a cup of tea from my small kitchen table that was forgotten over an hour ago. My apartment is right above my shop. It sure makes opening my business much easier.
The marshmallow plant I gathered today will be perfect for the fertility potions I am working on. Those potions have always been popular but especially since there has been a rise of harsh chemicals in the atmosphere, the normalization of pharmaceutical medications, and all their side effects identified. Fertility potions are now in higher demand than ever before.
You might be surprised at the type of people that come searching for magic potions. I’ve had lumberjacks, pastors’ wives and corporate CEOs buy magic potions from me. It’s how I paid for my college degree.
A degree in business that will now finally be put to good use, hopefully.
As I sit at the kitchen table drinking my cold tea, my mind drifts back to the rather large brown bear I came across today in the forest. He was so calm and responsive. I’ve never had a conversation with a bear before.
Even as my brain attempts to gaslight me into believing that I imagined the whole affair, I feel it in my soul that I didn’t. The bear with its human-like soulful eyes tugs at the edges of my heart.
Getting up I make my way to my phone and quickly google, ‘Is it normal for grizzly bears to be found in the Midwest?’
My eyes widen as I read ‘Grizzlies are currently only found in Alaska, western, and northern Canada.’
What are you doing so far away from home big bear?
I close my eyes trying to recall a clearer image of the bear. He wasn’t exactly like a grizzly bear, he was somewhat larger, but after searching through images of all the different bears in North America I can confidently assess that the closest bear to the one I saw earlier is a grizzly bear.
Interesting.
Perhaps I am not alone and there are more supernatural characters in this small town than me.It might be nice not to be alone, for once.
The opening dayof my shop has been uneventful, and I say that to mean, absolutely no one has stopped in my shop.Maybe Mom is right.
I haven’t had anyone attempt to burn me at the stake either, at least not yet. So that’s something.
“I don’t know Cheshire, should I close up early?” I say looking at my mackerel tabby who is lounging lazily on the windowsill. He meows. “You’re right that would be bad business practice,” I say with a dejected sigh.
Turning around I take stock of the shop. The floating rustic wood shelves on the walls are made of splices of local trees, their edges curved and raw. These shelves hold plants, bottles of potions, containers of dried herbs, crystals, and stacks of rare books.
The dark wooden floor is covered with imported ornate woolen rugs and, of course, more pots of plants. In the back of the shop is my pride and joy, an antique bar with hand-carved details across the entire front and a perfectly worn table-top.
The bell rings to my shop as a gust of warm air envelopes me, spinning around with a massive smile on my face I say, “Welcome to L’s Apothecary!” and instantly find myself tongue-tied when I register the massive man standing before me.
His chest and shoulders are broad, but even through his t-shirt that reads “‘Catch of the Day’”, the definition in his muscles is visible even under the fabric of his shirt.‘Catch of the Day’... sounds appropriate to me.
