5. ~ Char ~
CHAPTER 5
~ Char ~
“H e was looking forward to that date,” I snapped at Estelle, having ended my call with James. I still couldn’t believe I’d asked this mind-controlling monster with the bright red hair to target my friend’s dating life. Talk about over the line. Why had I wished for his date to fall through? And why had Estelle granted it? James rarely dated, which meant this woman had to be special, and I’d just wished her away.
No, no. None of this wishing business could be true. It wasn’t real. I hadn’t made that happen. I was having a dream. I’d fallen asleep on the couch after work. Or maybe I’d been hit by a car on my way to the museum and was actually in a coma.
I surreptitiously tried pinching myself. It hurt. But we felt things in our dreams, too, right? I sighed and scrubbed my face, a very real feeling of guilt for my actions against James pouring through me like lava.
“I can’t believe that’s allowed—to meddle in someone else’s life,” I grumbled.
Estelle’s smile wobbled, and a flicker of uncertainty lingered in her gaze.
I opened my folder of wishes and scanned them again. There were a lot of granted wishes on my invoice surrounding my numerous crushes over the years. Had I really wished for someone to love me that many times? I read the invoice again, heart sinking, while Estelle talked through the basics of being able to hear my wishes.
There was no way that someone—anyone, even my own mother—could know about all of these so-called private wishes. But fairy godmothers? They couldn’t be real. If I genuinely had one, wouldn’t I already be in Greece, touring the ruins with my dad?
My eyes stung, and I clenched them shut, reminding myself that I’d figure this out like I always did when faced with a problem, because I was brave and strong.
As well as selfish—as I’d just proven with James.
But really, my selfishness was nothing new. The ultimate evidence was here, staring me in the face from the invoice’s first page. My tenth birthday wish. I definitely remember how hard I’d wished for my dad to be home when he’d been out working extra shifts to repair the car after mom had slid off an icy road. I’d put my whole heart into it, and he’d surprised me by coming home and telling me exactly what I’d wanted to hear—that he hated missing my special day. That he’d been away at work and figured, what the heck? He wanted to be home, so he was going home. What would they do? Fire him?
Well, they had. Right after the three of us had gone out for brunch where the server had brought a candle-lit piece of cake to our table. I’d been so happy, and simply over the moon with the attention. My whole family together, doing something centred around me—what could have been better?
Then Dad got canned for skipping out of work, and nothing was the same for the three of us again. I’d always known it was my fault for wishing him home, and whomever wrote up this invoice knew it, too.
Money had been tight for the following six months after Dad lost his job. So tight that there’d been no renewed library membership, no sign up for baseball that summer, endless bottle picking in the ditches, and yet another move. Mom withdrew into herself and daytime TV to the point that even when Dad finally got work again, I’d basically been home alone even when she was there. Then she’d found him . My stepdad. Too loud, too gregarious. Plus, he had his own daughter. Perfect, slim, fun, and outgoing in an easy way that made me feel extra awkward.
I never lived with them. The only times I ever stayed with Mom and her new happy, perfect family was when Dad was working away and couldn’t find someone to shuffle me off to. Eventually, I’d just started staying home alone, even though, legally, I was probably too young.
My mom and dad had never really gone on any trips when they’d been together, and I still didn’t understand the super-social, excitement-loving woman my mom had become after meeting Damon. Had she always been longing to get out more and experience more thrills? All I knew was that I’d felt like an unwanted misfit, everyone just waiting for me to turn eighteen so I wouldn’t be their problem any longer.
I opened my eyes, blinking away the visual stars that had appeared from keeping my eyes so tightly closed, and stared at the invoiced wish again. One greedy little wish that had started the wrecking ball swinging toward my family.
Who would ever grant such a request, knowing it would lead to familial devastation?
“When our clients reach the age of 9,125 days,” Estelle was saying, “we are within the bounds of our magical laws to start billing them for their wishes.”
“Nine thousand and…?” My overwhelmed mind was no longer absorbing information, stuck on that one bad wish.
“Leap years. I know.” Estelle rolled her eyes. “It complicates the math. That and business days. Your world. Our world. Rules, regulations, Mrs. C.’s list.”
“Mrs. C.’s list?”
“Witches. They play by their own rules and interfere with ours whenever they feel like it.”
“How is it okay to grant wishes that ruin everything for others? What about their wishes and their sense of agency?”
“That’s a great question. It has a very complicated and nuanced answer.”
“And that is…?”
“Your life is the product of your wishes. It is made up of your past, future and present all together, all at once.”
“Okay, but you just stepped into James’s present and messed it up.”
“We are all interconnected, and have our own destinies and sense of agency.” She intertwined her fingers. “All of our pasts, presents and futures are woven together.”
“I know, but I just took away his…whatever. I interfered. I did something wrong. Something bad.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Did you?”
“Yes!”
“I can’t grant a wish that will harm someone else.”
“But you granted a wish that ruined my parents’ marriage. That was harmful! Why wasn’t I warned?”
“Oh, that wasn’t me. Paxi was your original fairy godmother. She was very hands-off. Let the chips fall as they may. That was more her philosophy.”
“I’d like to speak to her, please.” I had a few things to get off my chest thanks to her granting that tenth birthday wish that had stolen my family.
Estelle’s lips disappeared for a moment as she chewed on them. “She uh…”
I leaned forward, sensing a clue that, at last, might allow me to pry this whole mess open. “What?”
“Got eaten by a dragon.”
I sighed in defeat. This conversation was ludicrous.
“I’m sorry,” Estelle said softly.
“None of this adds up. How do you know about my birthday wish if Paxi granted it? Why would she devastate my family like that?” The idea of having someone else to blame was a reprieve from my own guilt.
“I can’t know her reasoning, but often, a granted wish creates space.”
“Yeah, it made space for my parents to get divorced, my dad to have his heart broken, and for my mom to find someone new. She moved on to a perfect life with a better husband and daughter. Paxi made space for me to be forgotten about.” My chest was heaving, the hurt fresh like overturned soil in the spring, loamy and moist and oh-so cold. “There was plenty of harm in that stupid, childish wish, and it should never have been granted.”
The sympathy in Estelle’s eyes made emotion well in my eyes. “I promise to do better by you.”
“I don’t care! I want my family back. I want for bad things to never happen. Why would she hurt us like that?”
“We can allow a temporary harmful effect in order for long-term beneficial effects to occur. It’s about energy, karma, balance and putting more good into the world than we take with each granted wish. The reach can last?—”
“Explain James’s ruined date.” I crossed my arms. “Where’s the beneficial effect for him?”
Estelle’s slow smile suggested a secret.
“What?”
“You care for him.”
“Of course! He’s my friend, and it was my awful wish that ruined his night. I need to know what my carelessly tossed wish is going to do to him.”
“You will see in time.”
“No! I need to know now so I can stop it.” My imagination was running wild with the possible consequences I’d set in motion with my wish. My lovely friend being single forever thanks to this one broken date. His faith in love demolished. It felt dramatic, but what had occurred after wishing my dad home on my birthday was evidence that things could go really bad—and fast.
“It’s all good, Char. Be rest assured.”
“How can you know that?”
Her smile was serene and unexpectedly reassuring. My relief took me by surprise, making me realize how worked up I’d gotten. “Why are we even talking about this?” I muttered. “You aren’t real.”
Her face fell, and she looked at my phone, then up at me with childlike confusion. “But I made him call you like you wished.”
“You need to make this bill go away.” I pushed it across the table toward her. “I didn’t know I was being charged. There is no approval from me. There have to be laws. Notice. All of that stuff.”
“There was notice. I saw it!” Estelle perked up. She swivelled in her chair, pushing herself across the room in her bright red heels. She grabbed a thick, battered file folder—not pink—from the files stacked on the desk, then rolled herself back to the table. Estelle dropped the stuffed folder onto the table with a flourish, sending sticky notes and small pieces of note paper fluttering out of the folder and onto the dusty carpet below.
“Why isn’t anything in here pink?”
“Paxi loathed pink. She thought it was a weak colour.” Estelle lifted a page from the stack. “Notice of future payment was granted to you on the eve of your thirteenth birthday. You were quite young.” She smiled at me. “You’d caught the hang of the wish bug early.”
“What notice?”
“It was served to you in a dream.” She placed the paper on the table and spun it to face me. “Signed by Paxi.”
“Yeah, no. A dream that I had when I was a—a child —is not fair warning that you plan to bill me a hundred grand well over a decade later. This isn’t real .”
A shiver ran down my spine as a remembered dream flit into my mind. An old lady had stumbled into my room in a gauzy dress, muttering about wishes and payment. It had felt ominous and had freaked me out so much I hadn’t been able to sleep more than a wink for days. I’d barely made the baseball team that season thanks to my exhaustion and lack of focus.
“Dreams are discounted by humans, Estelle.” Hearing the edge of panic in my voice, I inhaled a deep breath and forced myself to talk slower. “That’s not serving proper notice, and this would never hold up in court.”
“But the Magical Court of Rules is very strict,” she whispered. “There’s a process which was followed.”
“Look.” I closed my eyes and inhaled, aware I was arguing with a crazy person and expecting to win. “You can’t just bill someone because they have the ability to focus on a wish! I manifested all of this!” I slapped the documents in front of me.
Logically speaking, if wishes weren’t real, then I couldn’t truly be to blame for the demise of my parents’ marriage.
Which then begged the question of why I’d been beating myself up over that wish for so many years? It was ridiculous. All of this was.
“I’m your fairy godmother. I want to make your life better. Are you not happy with your life or wishes?”
I shook the detailed invoice. “Why are there so many more wishes over the past few months? Huh? Talk about suss. Some of these things aren’t even real wishes! This is nothing but a scam!” I smacked the last page to illustrate the silliness of it all.
Wishing my colleague would shut up for five minutes. Wishing for a clean public washroom. Wishing for Randy to leave me alone. Wishing to have my apartment all to myself for the three-day weekend. A shiver zipped down my spine.
“The fact that any of these things happened is kismet, or coincidence, or whatever you want to call it. It’s not something you can bill someone for. It isn’t even creating karmic space or whatever you called it.”
“There are more wishes this quarter because I took over when Paxi…um, retired.”
“Got eaten.”
“Well, yes. She was getting a bit senile. So? More questions, or should we get you all paid up?”
“No, aren’t you listening?”
Estelle blinked at me.
“You aren’t real. None of this is real. I don’t understand how you know all of this stuff.” I shook my head. I’d believe in a psychic right now, but not this. “Just no.”
“Just yes. I am your fairy godmother.”
“Then I want a new one. One who can’t hear me.”
She looked as if she’d been slapped. “You think you’ll find someone who cares about your wishes more than I do?” Her voice was wobbly. “One with…with better rates? We’re regulated, you know.”
“Well, I’m not paying.”
Estelle stared at me.
“I don’t have this kind of money,” I explained.
The colour drained from her face.
I leaned back, arms crossed. “I couldn’t pay this even if you were legit. Plus, I’m going to report you for an invasion of privacy.”
“No, no. We are within the bounds.” She patted a thick book at her side, one I hadn’t noticed earlier. Had it always been there? It was massive and worn, leather-bound and oozing old-world vibes. “And wishes aren’t free, Char. There are costs involved with every wish that’s granted.”
“I don’t have the money. I’m basically broke and have no assets. You picked the wrong mark for your little psychic scam-a-roni. I’m not paying this.” I shoved the papers so hard they flew off the desk.
“But…but.” She was blinking so fast her lashes were a blur. “I’m never going to pass the level to become an eighty-fourth generation fairy godmother. That is what is expected of me.”
“Really not my problem.”
She was spiralling, gulping air between sentences. “I can’t be demoted to a tooth fairy. Teeth gross me out! And I’m too big to be a garden fairy, and my black thumb will kill everything. Garden fairies are tiny and get eaten by frogs. They’ll have to shrink me. What if they do it wrong and I end up with one giant arm that didn’t shrink and everyone will scream in horror?” She jammed an arm in my direction. “I’ll be shunned by the family. I have to pass my levels. I have to.” Her voice was low, hoarse, and desperate. “This is my only chance. You have to pay your bill. It’s in arrears, Char. It’s due now, and I should have told the head fairy how much you owe before I ever granted you more wishes! I’ll be demoted! I’ll never pass.”
I blinked at her performance, unsure if she was done. “Well, I can’t pay it.”
“You have to! You knew what this was going to cost you!”
“Actually, no.” Her spiralling was making me more calm, more assured. “I mean, I never even got a price list.”
Estelle, suddenly calm, chirped, “Of course you did!” She flipped to the sheet at the bottom of the thick file folder, frowned, then skimmed a list stapled inside the front flap of the folder. It had dates typed on the left and some sort of handwritten inventory beside it. Her jaw clenched, and she rapidly flipped through the scrawled pages, blinking hard.
And that was when Estelle started intermittently crying and swearing, and black and silver glitter began raining down around us.