Friday brings more rain and the new moon. James, Jeanna, and I gather, drink our new moon tea, meditate on our desires and choices, and perform our individual rituals. I distribute invitations to Miri’s bachelorette party, two weeks out, and we call Luna as a group, learn her father is doing exceptionally well. He’s talking, functioning as a well-rounded person, and almost remembers Luna and her mom. Luna’s Aunt is looking into having Mrs. Flores evaluated by a psychiatrist because something is terribly off about her.
My thoughts, that something can’t be fixed by any psychiatrist. The bokor Chuks probably caused the problem, and the bokor Chuks is likely the only one who can properly fix it.
“This weekend is my mom’s birthday,” James says at the following Monday meeting. We’re sitting around the table, and Jeanna is shuffling a deck of tarot cards. “John and I are actually working together for a change. Can you believe that? We’re planning on taking her to Commander’s Palace.”
“Ohlala,” Jeanna says with a flair of her hand.
My back snaps straight. “This might sound strange, but if I gave you a letter would you deliver it to your brother?”
“Um, yeah.” James shakes his head as if to suggest my question is silly. “But why would you want to give anything to my brother?”
“It’s just something I feel driven to do. Will you help me without bombarding me with questions?”
James leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and considers me before answering. One edge of his lips curve upward. “Guess so.”
That evening, I write and rewrite a letter to Chuks the bokor.
Mr. Bokor,
I understand that the existence of my family within the French Quarter, much less New Orleans, is upsetting to you. There’s not much I can do about that, and I am sorry you find it bothersome. You have also not taken kindly to my interference in your business and that I get. Do you have family of your own? If you do, then you may understand the importance of those relationships, blood or otherwise. By extension, Mr. and Mrs. Flores are family to me. One of which you zombified and the other you infected, all to get to Luna Flores, someone who is quickly becoming close family to me. The kind of family one would do anything for. You understand that, don’t you?
I’ll make you a deal: Promise to leave the Flores family alone, cut any ties to them, and forgive them any debts, and I will see that my family stays 100% out of your business for the next several decades.
Respectfully,
Mirabelle Roussard
I stare at the letter. Reread it multiple times. Finding no edits I wish to make, I fold it and seal it in an envelope, write Bokor Chuks across the front. I then write another letter to James’s brother John. The second letter is simple and short, merely requesting he deliver the letter to Chuks on my behalf. I seal the second letter along with the letter to Chuks in one larger envelope. Hand it to James at school the next day.
That day and the days that follow are filled with rain, Mardi Gras activities and crowds, and even a few thunderstorms. The wet weather managed to sustain my garden in my absence… thankfully.
It seems like forever since I’ve been able to get more than a thirty-minute phone conversation with Luna. So much responsibility has been thrust on her, and the separation weighs upon me, but come Friday the fourteenth, Valentine’s Day, her Aunt drops her off for a surprise visit.
I drag her into the house and throw my arms around her, kiss her tenderly, then hug her intensely, deciding I may never let her go. The warmth of her embrace is like the home I never want to be without. After pickup times are arranged, Luna and I settle in the kitchen and get busy making heart shaped cookies covered in red and pink frosting. So, cliché but we do enjoy devouring them. Mom does too.
The phone rings and, in a slow swing, Mom snags the receiver from the wall. “Hello,” she says. “Hello?” She pulls the phone away from her ear and tilts her head away.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Must be weather interference from the thunderstorm. It’s nothing but static and a bunch of random clicks.
“What?” I spin from the counter, and stare at my mom. Clicks? Like the calls she used to receive. Only then, it triggered her to follow Caleb’s preprogrammed behavior. At least, that doesn’t appear to be happening now. I jolt forward and dash to her side. “Let me take a listen.” I take the phone from her care and place it to my ear. “Hello?”
“I hope you are behaving yourself,” the bokor says.
“And if I’m not?” I question.
“I’d hate to see Mrs. Flores’ condition worsen.”
“She’s all better now,” I blurt. “Whatever you did, didn’t take.”
“Are you sure about that?” he says.
I gasp and consider all the things Luna has mentioned about her mother’s strange behavior.
“I have my fingers in everything,” he says, as if answering my unasked question.
I hang up the phone. It’s Friday. James said he was seeing his brother on the weekend. Which means, my letter hasn’t yet been delivered. Was it a mistake to write it?
“Who was on the phone?” Mom asks.
“No one important.” I shake my thoughts away and grab Luna, drag her to my room. Drop to a sit on the bed. Luna takes a seat beside me.
“It was the bokor.” My fingers scratch at the bedding beneath my touch.
Luna jolts straight. “The bokor called here?”
“Yep.”
“What did he want?” My mother asks from the doorway.
Luna and I jump, then snap our attention to Mom. She steps into the room and crosses her arms.
“After all that I just went through with the possession and the loss of control, you can tell me if you are sinking into a dark magick dilemma. I have
