Witch Ball (12 page)

"That sounds like depression. We learned something about it in Phys. Ed. Class."

"Okay, Miss Junior Therapist, I am not here to provide you with a case to study," she said this in a kidding way, with no sign of anger. "You might pick on your dad for a while."

"Dad, what did you want to do?"

"My ambition was to be a clerk at City Hall. You see, I am living my dream." He held his glass in front of his face and gazed into it as if it were a crystal ball holding all the answers of the universe. The outside of the glass was frosted. I could only see olives and ice floating in the clear liquid distorted by the cloudy moisture.

"What a teaser," I said. "No, really, what did you want to be?"

"I had this far out idea that I could write screenplays
—
you know, movies." He swirled the ice and olives around in his glass. "I planned to major in English, Creative Writing. I knew there was almost no chance of making it big. All of a sudden, I was a father. Life just got too real." He leaned forward and said, "Gertrude, never think that you were not wanted."

I had never thought that...until now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

F
leur and other "known homosexuals" continued to be questioned by the police. It seemed that whenever they hit a roadblock
, doubts and mistrust pointed to the "usual suspects." It was surprising to see how many teachers were being judged and shaded with clouds of doubt.

The general consensus in
Columbus was that higher education ruins the mind. It turns people away from Christianity, and is a stepping stone toward homosexuality. I had trouble making the leap from college classes, to atheism, to choosing your sexuality. It was beginning to look like racism had taken a back seat to anti-intellectualism.

The town's tension infected us all. Mom decided that the family needed a break. A quiet evening of dinner together would work wonders. She invited Fleur and Grandpa Hyrum to join us on Friday night. I thought this was a simple and lovely idea. I also thought there might be a good meal in the mix, better than take-out, or Hamburger Helper. 

Grandpa Hyrum brought some venison steaks from his hunting trips for our feast. Mom dredged them in seasoned flour and fried the meat until the outside was the color of light coffee. "Just like my mama used to do," she said. I thought she looked a little sad when she said it. I guess she misses her mother. I would miss mine if she weren't here.

Dad made a salad in a sweet dressing. He mixed sections of oranges and raisins with the greens and tomatoes. Aunt Fleur brought two desserts, a spice cake and a pan of brownies with thick fudge icing. Mom made biscuits and creamed potatoes (from real potatoes, not instant!). I opened a can of Le Sueur petit pois peas, and added some mushrooms and lots of butter. We all shared the box wine. No one told me I couldn't drink, not even Grandpa. The house smelled wonderful.

Aunt Fleur doesn't eat meat, but she took a small helping of salad, a spoonful of potatoes, and one biscuit dripping with honey. I think everyone was happy and full, except her.

"Aunt Fleur, you haven't eaten much," said Mom. She usually isn't a stickler for how much I eat. "Aren't you feeling well?"

"Fine, dear, just fine. The food was very
delightful, and the company."

"It's just that you are looking a bit tired."

"Oh, old age is catching up with me." Fleur smiled with her lips closed. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately."

When they first arrived
I thought Grandpa was slightly cool to his sister. After about three glasses of wine he mellowed out. During dessert he actually asked Fleur how things were going, and seemed to be really interested.

"Well," she said, "the questions just keep getting weirder. I know the police are under a lot of pressure to solve the murder. But they seem to be grasping at straws. I think they are considering tiny little eccentricities as a sign of criminal behavior."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like the sign in my front yard. They can't understand why it
says '400 Genevieve Street,' when I live on 6
^th
Street South."

"Yeah, I always wondered about that," I said.

"Oh, that's easy," said Grandpa before she had a chance to answer. "The streets in Columbus used to have names. Lots of them were girl's names. I don't know when they were changed. It had something to do with making it easier for the postmen. For a long time some folks used both the names and the numbers together."

"I always thought Genevieve was so much prettier than
6th Street," she said. "So I adopted it."

"That's not exactly incriminating evidence," Dad said.

"I suppose anything could be considered incriminating in a town with an epidemic of wiccaphobia."

"What?" I had never heard that word.

"The fear of witches," she said. "When you get to college, Miss Truly, you will learn lots of new words."

"Flo, I've told you about that," Grandpa said. "You'll hafta' rein that stuff in."

"Funny, Hyrum, you didn't mind much when Kay was interested."

I perked up. "What do you mean? My Mom was practicing spells?"

"That was so long ago." Mom looked embarrassed. "It was nothing, nothing at all."

"Yes, so long ago. Even before your grandmother died, Truly." Fleur looked at Mom and continued. "But your mother lost interest, not too soon after she got married."

"Mom, really?"

She got up and went into the kitchen to get the wine. I recognized her serious expression. It was a sign to change the subject. But this was too interesting to drop.

"
Mom
, what happened? What made you change?"

"I don't know. I lost a baby. Mama died. My life took a turn. Silly girlish superstitions were part of my past." It was obvious that she immediately regretted the last sentence. "I'm sorry, Fleur. That's not what I meant. I mean..."

"It's okay." She took Mom's hand. "You grew up. In many ways, I haven't." She turned to me. "You see, Truly, once I was as close to your mother as I am to you. She was just a bit older than you are now. Sadly, she outgrew me."

Gran
dpa and his sister both rose. They ended the evening just when the bits of family history were getting so intriguing.

"Please don't leave. It's still early." I could tell from Mom's voice that she really wanted them to stay.

"I'm very tired. Time for bed," Fleur said. She sounded so weary.

I helped my mom with the dishes. "Mom," I asked, "why did you stop working magic?"

"I don't know, Truly." She turned away from me. I though I saw a tear in her eye.

Maybe she was changing again. She had never before called me 'Truly'."

 

 

 

 

 

 

M
om and I were both worried about Fleur. It was apparent that the pressure was taking a toll on her health. Her face sagged behind the heavy makeup. We decided that Aunt Fleur needed us at this time. Since she had come back to Columbus in the spring, Mom had pretty much left her alone.

When Fleur first returned, I often asked my folks if we could invite her to go someplace with us, like a movie or a restaurant, but Mom always said that she had her own friends. My folks acted like we would be bothering her or something. And, anyway, Dad was not fond of her. However, when I started hanging out with our aunt, she always appeared to enjoy my company. I think Fleur would have liked more "family time
." She must have missed it, leaving her home so young like she did.

We decided to have a "girl's night" on the evenings when Dad played poker. The three of us usually stayed at our house, or
Fleur's. Going out, even to a coffee house or small café, was often tense. People whispered. Those who knew us, like members of our church, were distant and unfriendly, as well.

In many ways, this was more fun. At
Fleur's insistence, we drank wine out of stemmed goblets, instead of the tumbler that Mom usually uses. Fleur showed me how to apply makeup. She had tricks to make my eyes look bigger, and my nose more slender. She knew what shade of blusher was perfect for my complexion.

Mom frowned when she first saw me with so much "drag
," as Fleur calls it. After a few minutes she said, "Well, maybe just a bit less would be okay."

Fleur winked. I think it was her plan all along, to overdo it so that Mom would accept a slightly toned down look. Fleur was right. She chose colors of lipstick and blush that made me feel really pretty.

"Who is this starlet?!" said my aunt. "You are ready for a walk down the red carpet!"

"She looks too grown up, if you ask me. But, yes, very
beautiful," Mom said.

"I think you are a miracle worker!" I told her. I was feeling comfortable, like we were just friends hanging out, not three different generations. We had been giggling at silly stuff. Everything we said struck us as totally hilarious.

"And I have some suggestions for colors that would look great on you both. We must all go shopping together for your back-to-school wardrobe."

"A great idea," said Mom. "You could give us some fashion hints."

"Aunt Fleur, I love you," I said. "You've taught me so much, about boys, about people, and about magic." Maybe I went too far. It could have been the wine, but I don't think so, because my love for her is real, wine or not.

"Our aunt is great with advice about style," Mom said. "But that magic thing can get out of hand."

"I don't think it worked too well for me." I hadn't had great success with her spells. Of course, I didn't follow them exactly, either.

"I tried to tell you both. Magic isn't something to play with."

Mom stopped smiling. "I wasn't playing. It came back to haunt me. I will never touch that stuff again."

"Mom, what do you mean?"

"I guess I can tell you. You're probably old enough to understand." She dropped her eyes. It was as if she could not look at me when she talked. "You know that I was in love with Hunter Alexander. No one believes that a girl my age could have such deep feelings, but I did. After he broke up with me I was devastated beyond belief."

"And pregnant," I added. I could understand why there was still a crack in her voice when she spoke of him. If I ever meet him, I just know I will hate him, too.

"Yes. But I couldn't turn my rage against Hunter because I still loved him. It was all directed at Ruby. I had so much hatred for her. Every night I went to sleep picturing her head exploding. Sometimes I saw a jagged bolt of lightning striking her. I could visualize the blood gushing from her scalp."

"That's creepy," I said. Fleur remained quiet.

Mom took a sip of her wine. Aunt Fleur put her arm around her shoulders.

"Fleur warned me so many times that wishes have power, and that everything we do comes back to us
—
sometimes more than once; sometimes to people we love."

"Then the whole town learned that Ruby was expecting Hunter's baby. My hatred grew. I couldn't control it. I was pregnant with his child, but she had Hunter."

"Wasn't Dad good to you?"

She reached over and touched my hand. "Yes, but I didn't love him. I was only eighteen
, so very shallow, so stupid."

"Why didn't you talk to someone, like Grandma?  Couldn't you go to her?"

"I can't explain it. At that time, Mama and Daddy were so distant
—
from me, and from each other. I knew they were embarrassed about my situation. I was sure that we had fallen apart because I had disappointed them. The family just wasn't close anymore. I sensed that my mama had some problem with Clementine, and maybe with Daddy, too. She wasn't the best one to help me."

"You were a married woman," said Fleur, "but you were a child as well. It breaks my heart to know you were so sad. Even married, you must have felt horribly alone."

"Alone
and
terrified. I was married to a stranger, a baby was coming and I had no one to confide in."

"I can't understand why Grandma was distant. Surely, she could tell that you were suffering."

"It's so hard to explain. Although I married your father, Mama knew that I had been dating Hunter. She probably suspected that my baby was his. To have him stolen by Clementine's child, well, that was a deep cut, especially since there was some question as to whether Ruby was actually white. That made it worse."

"Your grandmother had her own problems,
Truly," said Fleur. "There was a huge gulf between her and Hyrum. They started sleeping apart. It was around that time that I came and redecorated her bedroom. I don't think he ever set foot in the room after that." She turned to Mom. "But Kay, you are so very wrong. It was not about you at all. They were never ashamed of anything you did."

"Maybe not, but I didn't know that. I only knew that Ruby had something I wanted. I wished a million times that she was dead."  She grew quiet. "Then she was." Mom's voice was barely a whisper. "She died. I killed her."

I think we all stopped breathing then. My Mom a murderer? Impossible!

"Mom, what do you mean?"

"My thoughts killed her. At first I wasn't sure. I had the miscarriage before she died. There was so much guilt. I knew that there was justice in the universe, and thought that my anger had backfired on me. I thought I had killed my own baby with hatred."

"Mom, I'm confused. You lost a baby. How can that mean that you killed Ruby?"

"I'm not finished. Ruby died of an aneurism. Her head exploded inside."

"Kay," said Fleur, "you aren't responsible for that. How could you be?"

"Don't you see? I pictured her head exploding. I did it a million times. Then her head actually exploded." Her voice cracked when she said this.

"Kay, listen to me..."
Fleur's face was next to Mom's. Her voice was stern. "You don't have that kind of power. You can't make someone's head explode."