“Whatever. At the very least, please don’t tell me you paid her with what remains of our money.” Lisa’s tone quaked while she tossed more scraps to the sparrow.
“I didn’t pay her a cent. If that’s what you care about, you can stop worrying.” Helen swallowed a dose of shame, though she couldn’t blame Lisa.
Her friend managed to escape a dead-end, trailer park life and get into college thanks to genius playing of the stock market. And now Lisa had to watch as the money that brought her salvation, the money she’d invested in yoga teacher training and later her half of L&E, vanished into the belly of an insatiable beast they called “bills.”
“But you went to her, right? Saw her for some kind of spiritual consultation?” Lisa put quotes around the word spiritual, doing zilch to couch her disdain.
Helen peeled off a sizable sheet of nail polish. Lisa’s sarcasm hadn’t helped lessen her grief and humiliation one damn bit. Not that Lisa had any obligation to ease Helen’s feelings.
And following the original disaster, no wonder Lisa had an ax to grind with all things esoteric or spiritual.
“Yes. I met with her. But it’s not like before, I swear. This is real, Lisa. She is real. An authentic witch. I saw things with my own eyes. Heard them. I tapped into forces over there. Ancient and powerful energies. Magic. I’m asking you to try one more time. One more chance.”
Lisa stroked Helen’s upper arm. “I’m trying to be empathetic and open minded and reasonable. On your behalf. I love you, but you need to start using critical thinking. You have this beautiful, pure thing inside of you, this part of you that wants to believe in things like magic. But it makes you susceptible. Vulnerable. I wonder if you’re so anxious to secure stability that you think you have to do these over-the-top things to get security. Gurus. Witches. But you don’t have to cast a magic spell to make a lasting home, Helen. You just have to figure out how to build that environment through love. You aren’t fighting your way through the foster system anymore.”
Bracing her elbows on her thighs, Helen slumped forward so far her hair fell in her face. She shrugged off her friend’s patronizing touch.
“I’m aware.” The words ejected from Helen’s lips like bad food, some ugliness she didn’t care to examine festering under her skin.
“I’m not sure you are. Because I don’t feel like you learned a lesson.”
“Message received. You think I’m stupid.” A whole-body hurt overcame Helen. After hearing “stupid” shrieked in her ears for years, even uttering the insult herself stepped on a trigger.
Civilizations rose and fell in the crushing pause that followed. Wobbling water pooled in Helen’s eyes. Searing ripples of scarlet fury scorched away her heartache. Fuck this. Fuck Lisa and L&E and the crystals and Joe.
Helen forced herself to breathe mindful, meditative breaths. Her anger could be toxic and destructive, and she didn’t plan to burn her life to the ground yet.
“No, I don’t think you are stupid.” Lisa’s careful inflection cut even deeper than if she’d replied in the affirmative. She’d considered her answer, figured out how to package and hazard a palatable response. Bully for her and her adroit skills of diplomacy.
“But? Say what you mean. Say it to my face.”
“Fine. All of this talk of witches and magic does make you look naïve, and you have potential to see through this crap. Granted, the charlatan stuff was understandable, given what you went through. But it’s a fool-me-once kind of thing. And now it sounds like it’s happening again, and I wonder why. I wonder if you’ve got this notion in your head that the world is senseless, so you need to do senseless things for survival.”
Lisa danced near some truths. The swindler who’d stolen their bank account numbers and cleaned them out before falling off of the grid bore a striking resemblance to Helen’s dead father.
But to Helen’s credit, before hiring the supposed guru to lead workshops designed to take already-struggling L&E to the next level of spiritual and financial success, she’d subjected him to what she thought was rigorous vetting. Not rigorous enough. Never good enough.
Perhaps she’d succumbed to some self-defeating tendency to get duped by a powerful, charismatic man promising her the safety she craved.
“You’re right, as always. I was an idiot to trust him.”
“You have more than a modicum of awareness. Great. So why are you falling for another snake oil scam?”
“I told you. This time is different.”
Another painful moment of silence stretched the space between the friends.
“What age did your mother have her first psychotic break?” Lisa used a clinical voice, a new voice, and Helen detested it.
Helen snorted, though Lisa’s points came off intelligent and sane and scientifically ordered. Like pinned, categorized, and labeled butterflies.
Scrabbling for the shreds of her pride, Helen sat up straight instead of slinking back in shamefaced retreat. All she could do was own her new identity. “My mom’s issues don’t matter. I’m not stupid or crazy, I’m a witch. And I’m going to prove to you that magic is real. I’ll show you I can use witchcraft to help us.”
Two passing fair patrons, encumbered by behemoths of inflatable pink bunnies, swiveled their necks to stare. Helen ignored them. She needed to stay on track and yank out all weeds of doubt. Plus, she had Brian to think about now. Nobody saved her from the foster system, but she could use her gifts to save someone in need.
“At what age did your mom have her first psychotic break?” It came in that goddamn medical tone again, detached and superior.
The age I am right now. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Come on, sweetie. Facts do matter.”
“Stop. I’m not a child or a fool.”
“So quit acting like both.”
“You’re being cynical, even for you.”
Lisa scratched her head and huffed, like the
