I dialed her number. She answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” she asked, her voice crackly.
“Hazel!” I said breathlessly, my soul starving for her words. “I was just calling to see how you were doing—”
“No you didn’t,” she said.
I was frozen on Scott’s couch, unable to read her tone. Was I finally annoying her? Was she going to tell me to stop calling her?
“We both know I’m doing fine,” she said, the smile coming through in her voice.
I relaxed.
“What happened, Charlie?” she asked, her voice full of concern.
“I messed everything up,” I said, tears beading at the corners of my eyes. “My life was changing, just like you said. I got the opportunity of a lifetime, but now it’s gone.”
“Oh, Charlie,” she said.
“I wrote down everything I wanted. I let myself believe it was in my grasp, like I deserved it. And now reality came back around and I’m right back where I started at square one!”
Hazel was quiet for a moment, listening to my wallowing. Then she asked, “Have you forgiven yourself?”
I got ahold of myself just enough to process her words. “Forgiven… myself?” It made me think of what Crim said in the tub a few weeks ago. That I was making progress.
“I think so? How would I know?” I asked, desperate for any kind of validation that I was doing something right.
“Well, if I’m not mistaken,” she said. “I think I just heard you say that you messed it all up. That you were the one that missed an opportunity. That’s blocking you, Charlie.”
I frowned. “So you’re saying that… that I’m blocking myself?”
“I’m not,” she said. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was getting a little impatient with me. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t blame yourself. You have to trust the universe. You asked for what you wanted, correct?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And the universe showed you a taste of what you could have, am I right?”
“…yes,” I repeated.
“Then you have nothing to worry about, dear. Simply have patience and everything will fall into place.”
“But how do I know?” I asked desperately. “My world is at my feet right now, Hazel. My best friend’s career is destroyed, none of the guys that I was interested in are talking to me, and I’ll never get another opportunity like the one that just happened!”
“Choose love, Charlie. You’re choosing fear so hard right now,” she said. I could practically hear her eye roll.
“It’s hard when everything looks like it’s over,” I complained. “Can I… can I just see you? Can we meet?”
I knew it was selfish to ask for her time just so that she could pat me on the head and tell me I’m doing everything right in a thousand different ways, but I couldn’t help myself. I was desperate for any kind of validation.
“We’ll see each other very soon,” she said knowingly. “I’m sure of it. I’m actually on vacation right now…”
“Oh! I didn’t mean to bother you while you’re on vacation!” I said, clapping myself on the forehead. I was such an imposition.
“Just choose love, Charlie. Keep choosing love. You asked for what you wanted, you believed it could happen. You got rid of most of the poison in your aura — things will work out. Right now there are forces that are powerfully moving people, events, and circumstances for you. All you have to do is be patient.”
Again, that hard, sharp-edged feeling of rational thought took over my mind. What was I doing? I was asking a witch for life advice? I was so pathetic.
“Choose love,” she said with finality, then hung up.
I stared at my phone screen, frowning. She was getting irritated with me; I didn’t blame her. I was being super needy right now.
Despite the voice of rationality telling me that everything she was saying was nonsense, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew what was going to happen before it actually would. I closed my eyes and saw Crim’s purple irises there, boring into me with their amethyst brilliance.
I put my phone face-down on my chest, making a decision not to call the salon just yet. I’d give it one more day — just one, holding out the hope that something would happen with the production company. I couldn’t let go of this dream. Not yet.
Resisting the urge to check my phone, and doubly resisting the urge to wallow and feel sorry for myself, I stared at the ceiling and thought of Alina.
She wouldn’t talk to me. At this point, I thought it was a pride thing. She was too humiliated, too embarrassed about what had happened. Still, I couldn’t help but worry about her. I felt an inkling of resentment that she was ignoring my offers of friendship.
Though I hadn’t exactly made it easier for her to confide in me. She told me what she’d done in exchange for a chance at fame — a chance at that thing I was so desperately chasing — and I’d returned her trust with nothing but judgment.
The media hadn’t been kind to her, just like we thought. The director that was with her in the video was under an investigation too, and all of his projects had been put on hold. I guess they found some incriminating tapes in his basement and were bringing Alina in for another round of questioning.
I’d sent her a text giving her my support, telling her that I would be there for her when she needed me, and to not feel like she had to respond right away. That was five days ago.
I was truly in limbo. All of this waiting was the worst part about it, and I got to watch as my mind stretched out every second like taffy, holding out hope that my life was going to change back to the way it was.
I’d been procrastinating
