Love and Magick, A Short Story Double Feature (4 page)

"No, it—it’s okay. Look if you want I'll
give you a ride."

She paused. "No, no I couldn't ask you
--"

"You didn’t ask. I offered. Let me take
you."

"Oh, okay then." She held out her hand. "I'm
Jasmine."

"Steven."

Inside my car I noticed how the seat seemed
to swallow her up. She was so thin under her dress.

“You from around here?” she asked.

“Kind of. Not really. I just had the day
off.”

“Oh me too,” she said.

“You've been to Heisler Park before?”

“Yes, years ago. One of my favorite
places."

“Me too.”

“Really?”

“No, actually, really.”

The conversation came easy. The whole world
seemed to agree between us. A “Hey that’s my favorite song?” was
followed up with, “I saw them in concert” or, “I’ve never been to
Spain” found the rejoinder of “I’ve always wanted to go!” Back and
forth, we found common ground.

Heisler Park with its palm trees and vast
ocean views, offered us the best place to spend in each other’s
company. The sun decided to show itself and made our day that much
longer.

Her frail demeanor utterly betrayed her
beauty, which she possessed in abundance. I wondered what was wrong
with her. After several hours I decided I could ask. At first I
thought I had made her uncomfortable, but she just smiled and
looked at me with those big, green eyes and said one word:
"Leukemia".

It was eating her alive.

Finally, the night came as was
inevitable.

"I have to go." She said, "Can you take
me?"

"Of course. Where?"

"The hospital."

I felt a sudden rush of anxiety. I hadn't
considered that she was an inpatient.

"You live in the hospital?" I asked. "Won't
they be wondering where you've been?"

"No. It’s okay--honestly." She smiled and
grabbed my hand. Her fingers curled inside mine. Her touch was
warm, gentle. We walked, holding each other.

An hour later I pulled in front of the
hospital and parked the car.

"Thank you for today," she said. "I wasn't
expecting it."

"You’re welcome and…neither was I. Look,
you'd better go." I was feeling anxious about keeping her out. She
was sick.

"When will I see you again?" She asked,
beautiful green eyes staring into mine.

I hesitated. As much as I wanted to see her
again, I knew I could never commit to anything. Not because of her,
but because of me. "Jasmine, I don't know. I can't--"

"I understand," she said. "I'd better go.
Thank you again Steven. It meant a lot to me." She grabbed my hand
and squeezed and then disappeared into white hallways.

I sighed and went home.

The following week was torture, but somehow
I made it through. My despair and dismal state of mind was
alleviated only because of the day I'd spent with Jasmine.

I was changing. I appeared the same and
pretended well, but felt as though something inside of me was about
to burst and when it did I would…lose control, go insane. I didn’t
know. And I wasn’t sure if that was fear I felt, or excitement.

Not one day--no, not one hour, passed that I
didn't think of Jasmine. But with the thought of her came the
hopelessness that was the crux of her circumstance: she was dying,
maybe already dead.

What was the use?

I lay there one Sunday night when that
feeling crept over me: a total resistance to Monday. I pushed it
aside, but just as I did, I remembered Jasmine's big, green eyes,
her smile and the warmth of her touch. I toyed with the idea of
seeing her again. I had imagined it a thousand times since we'd met
and yet not until now did it seem to me that I might actually do
it.

I was going to do it.

Suddenly I had to see her. Just like last
time. I had to be with her. And so as unbelievable as it sounds, I
without thought, but with full comprehension, pulled the Blue Moon
Monday from its confinement.

I fondled the fabric. I read the card and
felt stupid all over again. A hoax? I didn't care. A fool? Yes. And
then, just as I had done before, I wished for the Blue Moon
Monday--over and over again I wished. And then I thought of
Jasmine, her green eyes and white skin, her warm touch and
beautiful smile.

***

"You might as well go home," Anderson said
the next morning.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. I.T. says it will be at least a
day before they can get you back on line. It's just a glitch that
seems to only be interested in your unit's machines."

Of course, I was the only one in my
unit.

"Well," I said, "maybe I can use a…forget
it."

"Yeah, what's the difference? It's not like
you won't get paid. Besides, when was the last time you had a day
off?"

As I drove I mused over the situation. Did
the Blue Moon Monday really work? Or was this just simple
coincidence? Coincidence, maybe, but it stood that here I was off
on a Monday after the Sunday that I had wished for "no more work to
ensue". But then again we had been having computer problems for
months and everyone was just waiting for a system crash.

Did I believe in Chinese proverbs now?

I pulled my vehicle up to the hospital where
I had dropped Jasmine off. Anxiety stung. What if she were already
gone? I unlocked the door. It was time to find out.

The attendant at the front counter smiled
with fake friendliness as I approached. Long red nails told me she
had little else to do with her time. I leaned over the counter and
tried not to notice her cleavage. "I'm here to see a woman named
Jasmine, late twenties, green eyes, don't know the last name."

"Inpatient or out?"

"In."

"What unit?"

"I don't know. She has Leukemia."

Fingertips bolted across the keyboard like
painted spiders as she checked for the name. Then she stopped and
stared into her screen.

Did she die?

Again the spiders marched to the sound of
typing but fell silent within a moment. "Sir, I'm sorry, seems our
system is down. You'll have to come back later."

I was exasperated. Is the entire world
having computer problems? The expression on the attendants face
told me she wasn't going to do anything else to help me. I guess I
hadn't acted like concerned family. Then, the phone rang and I
might as well have disappeared.

The leather seats in my car were hot to the
touch. I engaged the ignition. I would find her.

Heisler Park was always beautiful. And there
were always crowds. I watched the Eighty-Nine bus come and go half
a dozen times and she was never on it, but when she appeared out of
the crowd in front of me I can't say I was surprised. Not really.
But I was relieved.

"How did you find me?" She smiled and her
green eyes looked even brighter.

"I think you found me."

Her arms slinked around my neck and mine
around her waist. The weight of her body pressed against me and for
that instant I felt totally and utterly whole, my life fulfilled.
There was nothing I wanted more than to hold her. She was alive.
And I had her, at least for now in this finite and perfect moment.
I pressed her close and felt a sudden shock of sadness at the image
of a world without her.

"Come here. I want to show you something."
Her fingers were inside mine again and she pulled me to the beach.
We took off our shoes and walked through the sand. "Come on."

I followed without protest.

"I found this. Isn't it wonderful?"

A sea of black ovals over a smooth, wet slab
glistened in the sunlight. It was a cluster of mussels covering a
rock in a blanket of shells. I smiled.

That day was long, but all too soon it came
to an end. I parked the car in front of the hospital and the
question came to me. Why did the hospital give her leave? I turned
to her and opened my mouth, but before the words could be uttered,
her lips found mine. I forgot about the question. I didn't care
about anything but this moment, this touch with her.

"I want to see you again," I said, my breath
coming short. “I have to see you, Jasmine, I have to.”

"Meet me, on Monday, at the beach. Not
here." Her breath was hot on my lips.

We kissed again and longer.

The freeways were empty and the yellow glow
from the city lights hovered like a thick fog.

How could I keep this going? She was sick.
She was going to die. This could only end one way.

I shuttered at the thought of it, but even
still, when my better judgment endeavored to instruct me most
thoroughly, I remembered her touch, the press of her lips and her
unequivocally beautiful spirit that, like a thief, had stolen me. I
was in love. I could no more turn from the current path I stumbled
down, than I could redirect the setting of the sun.

This can only end one way. She is sick. She
is dying...

But if she was, then so was I. I would walk
this path and follow it to the bitter end and use the Blue Moon
Monday all the while.

For six weeks following I used the Blue Moon
Monday just as I had the first time. And each time the coincidence
occurred. And each time I met her at the exact same place. And each
night we made gentle and passionate love. Monday was our day, our
sacred day. I never asked to meet any other time, I was just happy
to be with her when I could. And for those weeks I almost believed
that it would go on forever. Until the eighth week, the last
week.

***

"You okay? You've been coughing more
lately."

"I'm fine." She heaved for breath.

I was silent. The sound of her coughing
filled the gap. She heaved again and gripped the bed sheets as she
gulped for air. I sat beside her and touched her back. I felt her
muscles tighten as the convulsions took her. She covered her mouth,
but when the next bout came, flecks of blood stained the white
linens and smeared under her fingertips.

A cold shiver shot down my back.

What have I done? What am I doing? She's
sick!

I glanced around the hotel room and spotted
a small cup near the sink. I filled it and shoved it into her hand.
"Drink it."

Her cough quelled. I choked back my own
tears.

"We need to get you back. I've kept you too
long and you’re not feeling well."

"No, Steven. No. I don't want to go back.
Not yet."

"No Jasmine. You're coughing up blood. I
have to take you back."

She shook her head. "Not yet."

***

When I received the news that she’d died I
didn't say anything. A different attendant sat at the desk that
day.

"I'm sorry sir, she passed last night. I
really am sorry. Can I do anything for you?"

"No. Thank you." I walked out of the
hospital. The sun beat down on my head and the idea that she was
gone forever stunned me. It seemed the news did not settle then.
The numbness, the denial. She had but newly left the world and so
it seemed she still walked in it. By the time evening fell, the
reality had sunk in. Jasmine was gone.

I sobbed, my grief knowing no respite. The
weight of my agony stole over me and I bawled deep into the night.
I woke at some dismal midnight hour, but instead of my grief, I
felt something else. Acute rage.

Something had done this to me. Something had
made me the fool. And something was going to pay.

I became possessed of a single intent:
destroy the Blue Moon Monday. “Where are you?” I seethed. “Where
the fuck are you?”

I tore it from its hiding place. The card
flung out and I crumpled it, but that wasn’t enough. I gnawed on it
and spit it out in a wet and shapeless mass. I gripped the silk
sheet with both hands and pulled. I wrenched it and tried to rip it
down the middle, but the fabric held.

I strained harder, longer, stronger, but the
fabric held.

"Impossible!"

I tore, stretched and yanked. And still the
fabric held!

My furor exploded like atomic fission.

Fumbling and enraged fingers found scissors
tucked away in the back of a drawer. I stabbed at the fucking Blue
Moon Monday. Not so much as the smallest incision ensued.

I laughed out loud with a thick and haughty
hoot. "I've got you yet, stained you red with my own blood!" But
even as the last word flung from my tongue, my blood rolled off of
the white silk and onto the floor, no stain left behind.

It was terror then that held me. Pure, naked
terror.

I swaddled it into a ball and within fifteen
minutes had it buried outside under the wet, black dirt. And then
kneeling beside the grave, with mud soiling my hands and the taste
of earth on my lips, I realized that no matter the source of my
agony, no matter what trickery or superstition led me here, nothing
could bring her back.

Nothing.

I knelt in the freshly dug earth, sobbing,
my heart breaking.

***

A week later, days after I’d unearthed the
Blue Moon Monday, washed it—though it really wasn’t dirty—and
stored it away, I received a phone call. The caller identified
herself as Chelsea, Jasmine's sister. I was surprised at first,
then comforted at the familiar tone of voice.

"I have something for you. We've been trying
to find you."

When I arrived, Chelsea came to the door and
I was dumbfounded at the resemblance. Those same vibrantly green
eyes met mine. She ushered me in.

"Jasmine wanted you to have this. We haven't
opened it." She handed me a white envelope, taken from a cardboard
box on the kitchen table. It had my full name scrawled neatly
across it.

"Is it okay if I open it here?"

"Be my guest. Take as much time as you
need."

Dear Steven, though we did not have much
time together, what we did have meant more to me than words could
ever express. I am grateful for you. The love you gave me, made me
unafraid to die. And now, I feel I will be taken soon, to the next
phase and its okay. I love you always and forever.