Page 4 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
I know she didn’t, but I say it anyway. This is how I find her on herless thandays. She doesn’t like calling them bad days. That would mean there was something wrong. There is, but it’s not that easy. It’s been nearly a decade since Dad died, but for her I think it still hits like yesterday. She never moved on, never opened herself up to finding someone else. She says there isn’t anyone like him, no one who would make her feel joy like he did. I don’t know. I’ve never had that, but I wish she would try. It doesn’t help that Dad’s entire family went radio silent a few years after he died, and Mom’s family is in Germany. All she has is me.
I lean over and kiss her forehead.“Night, Mom. Hab dich lieb.”
I walk back into the kitchen and fill up the sink to soak the dirty plates while I tie up the trash bag and walk it out the ricketyback door. Its bent metal frame slaps back into place when the wind catches it, just before biting at my uncovered face and ears as I run down the wooden stairs. There’s little more than dim moonlight to illuminate the concrete slab that doubles as a back porch, and I toss the trash in the gray receptacle as fast as I can and race back inside. It’s so freaking cold. I let the door slap shut behind me and immediately regret it. I squint, grimacing at the bang and waiting to see if I woke Mom. I don’t hear anything, so I think I’m good.
Back in the kitchen I get to scrubbing the dishes left in the sink. I’ve been the kid who sticks around home, whether it’s cleaning up after dinner or making dinner, for years, ever since Mom started drinking. I don’t mind, really. It’s not like I don’t enjoy the kitchen, and I’d rather it get done than bother her. There is something about having a spatula in hand, or my fingers coated in batter, or a sweet aroma wafting from the oven. It’s calming. I think that’s why I chose the bakery as my first job, it’s a lot like this, and if I weren’t thinking about nursing or maybe psychology, I’d probably consider opening my own bakery one day.
That’s all a long way away though. First, I need to get through my last year and a half of high school. I have plenty of time to figure it out, but I do have a plan.
* * *
I’m in my brown pajamas with the inscription from the One Ring printed down the leg in gold lettering. I’m sitting on the floor with my legs crossed in front of my altar. My version of an altar at least.
It's a simple rustic wooden table with a forest-green cloth on top, sort of like a table runner. There’s a small bouquet ofwildflowers. I pick them every few days from the woods behind the house. I don’t know them all by name yet, I’m still learning, but my favorite are the three red columbine blossoms, the white petals and yellow anthers of a few thimbleweed flowers, stalks of lavender, and one lone sunflower towering over the rest. Next to them is a calming satchel of ground-up kola nut, a clear crystal, and a rough piece of yellow tiger’s eye I found myself at the Emerald Hollow Mine down in Hiddenite on a school field trip when I was twelve. A small polished amber stone, a black tourmaline, a pointed chunk of polished sodalite sit around and between my candles.
I’ve already said my intentions for Mom, now it’s time for the thing I wish for most. From the small chest next to the altar I take a piece of browning paper and place it in the center before setting a simple silver candle plate on top of it. Next is a thick, half-melted red pillar candle. The top half was pink before it melted away during the first three days of the spell. It’s one of the old Valentine’s Day candles I bought when they went on sale.
It's already charged and coated in oil, so I skip that step and sprinkle a mixture of lavender petals, nutmeg, ylang-ylang petals, tonka bean, and cinnamon from another satchel around the base and on the candle itself. I position the sodalite near the base before fumbling a tiny smooth rose quartz from my drawer of stones and setting it on the base opposite the sodalite.
It's for my love spell. I haven’t told anyone about it except Kaitlynn because I feel pathetic thinking I need to use a spell to find love or to get Hayden to love me, but I want it so bad. I know I can’t make him love me. That’s not how it works, but I’m going to use whatever I can to help nudge it that way. That’s why I added cinnamon to my love herbs—he loves cinnamon.
I let out all the air in my lungs and work on grounding myself. The hardest part is ridding myself of all the negative self-talk.I have to calm my mind, let all the self-deprecating thoughts leave. My focus has to be right. I breathe in a long gulp of air and I start by lighting the two black candles at the edge of my altar.
“I am letting go of all doubt and embracing what may come,” I say calmly, letting the words vibrate through my body. “I am letting go of all doubt and embracing what may come.”
I close my eyes and repeat it two more times before snuffing out the candles. I sniffle when the smoke touches my nose. Keeping my calm is hard while I imagine what I’m aiming for: Hayden Marcus. I have to be still, at peace. I don’t think I can really screw up a spell, not like in a way that’ll harm me or anything, but still.
I take a breath, close my eyes again, and center my thoughts. Stars in the sky. A warm summer breeze rushing through the tall grass. Hayden’s smiling face. A drop of water. The scent of cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven.
“Okay, Hayden, I need a boyfriend,” I say, and pick up the long-necked grill lighter. It didn’t take me long to learn that I’m not good with matches or the little lighters. Too many seared fingertips.
I click the trigger and a flame comes to life. I light the wick on the Valentine’s Day candle and wait for the first bit of wax to start melting.
“Me and my smoky-eyed man, we are meant to be,” I quote the words written on paper under the candle, my mind focused on those gray eyes. “So it is.”
I say it again, letting my eyes close. Sweet notes of lavender and the woody spice of warmed nutmeg greet my senses. I imagine arms around me, hugging me, warming me. I say it again, a third time, then a fourth. I open my eyes. The candle hasalmost melted to the next notch. I focus on the flame and say the words two more times.
“Me and my smoky-eyed man, we are meant to be. So it is. Me and my smoky-eyed man, we are meant to be. So it is.”
With the last word I lean in and blow out the flame and trim the wick.
“So it is,” I say one more time, hoping that my intent was clear.
3
“You’re not Black Friday shopping?” Landon side-eyes me.
“Nah,” I say, leaning against the counter opposite the register.
We’ve had nothing to do for nearly an hour. I thought it’d be busier today, being Thanksgiving and all. I thought we’d have a line until we closed and have to shove people out the door. I mean, I didn’t want to be stuck here after five, but this is ridiculous. The upside is we’ve stayed on top of the cleaning, which means we might get to leave right after close. Mom said she’s cooking a ham with her amazing pineapple sauce, my favorite. I know it depends on how she’s feeling. That part was unspoken, but it’s always there. Regardless, I’m bringing home a key lime pie and I’ll probably end up making some of the sides, but it’s just us.
“That’s whattheywant,” I continue. He didn’t ask for this, but if he’s going to sound incredulous about me not partaking in the annual anti-Thanksgiving capitalist slugfest that is Black Friday, I’m going to explain. “They want you to come to their stores in droves. To fight your neighbors for an extra five dollars off a shitty version of a product they’re making a fortune off. People are literally having Thanksgiving tonight.Tonight!They’re being all ‘thankful’ and warm and fuzzy, but then tomorrow…tomorrow the same people would cut your throat for a set of one-thousand-thread-count bedsheets.”
He’s just staring at me, saying nothing, lips skewed like I’ve lost my mind, butI’mnot the guy fighting an old grandma type at Walmart for the one-thousand-thread-count bedsheet set. Yeah, I saw that happen a few years ago. It was surreal. Hedidn’t cut her throat, but that’s not the point. I’m just trying to be thankful right now, even though Hayden hasn’t come by yet.
“Sooo big no, then.” Landon nods and laughs.
I shrug. “Nope. What are you getting though?”
