Chapter 9
PANDORA’S DIARY
Magical Moments: Who has time when everyone is hounding me to get my gift?
At the front door of Essence, I flipped the sign to “OPEN,” feeling like a shop-keep in an old movie.
There weren’t any customers, so Deja, Shrig, and I chatted for a while.
I knew they were worried I wasn’t going to get my gift, but after I’d exploded at Leo they managed not to mention it.
Instead, we talked about how we were all worried that Gabe wasn’t going to get his gift.
The poor, deluded, sweet guy was absolutely panicking.
Then Shrig produced his edibles. Our fae ancestors loved a good revel, so gifts involving intoxicants are pretty common, and result in some oddly specific drugs. Shrig even had some that keep you warm while swimming in cold water.
His afternoon plan was to get high, get surfing, and get laid. Of course, given his linguistic tics, he didn’t put it as slangily as that. We teased him about “narcotic, aquatic, and erotic,” then he offered me an edible to “open my mind.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Open my mind to what?”
Deja shoved a bunch of crystals at me. “And these will focus your energy.”
“What the hell?” I glared at them. “Leo talked about some imaginary gift-giving pill and now you’re trying to cobble one together?”
“No, no!” Deja said. “Definitely not. I mean—”
“That’s such bullshit! Just give them to Gabe. I don’t need to unlock my gift. I’m fine.”
“We already set some aside for him,” Shrig admitted.
“And we know you’re fine,” Deja added. “But who doesn’t want an open mind and focused energy? Seriously, even if these do nothing else, they’ll be fun.”
“Fun is good,” I said. “But for the record you’re on thin fucking ice.”
The truth was, I loved how much they cared, even if I disagreed with the reason they cared. Plus, getting high and hanging out in a circle of crystals on the island sounded like a perfect “last hurrah” activity, a Moment that I would’ve added to the list if I’d thought of it.
I helped Deja restock for a few hours, then popped the gummy and wandered through town with my mind open.
I said hello to a French bulldog a tourist couple was walking, and stopped to smell some lilac bushes.
I waved a greeting to Jamar through the window of his pizza place and even exchanged a few wooden words with Philip as he came out of the post office, and managed not to yawn.
I stayed fairly sober during the golf cart ride home, but my mind unhinged as I reached the Inn.
I could taste the sun shining and hear the salt air billowing off the ocean.
I slipped into my Hunter boots and followed the gravel path around the side of the Inn.
A few minutes later, I found the perfect meditation spot under one of Dad’s heirloom apple trees.
I made a circle of Deja’s crystals in the grass, sat in lotus position, and closed my eyes.
My tongue started tingling from the edible, then the tingling moved to my brain.
Colors shifted behind my eyelids and I swayed, picturing the energy of the crystals, feeling waves of magic rising and falling around me.
I didn’t need to own the magic. I didn’t need my own personal gift.
Not when the world positively overflowed with good friends, good drugs, the pure goodness of fruit trees and Atlantic tides…
I inhaled the scent of apple blossoms, then exhaled slowly. I felt floaty and lightheaded, and began to chant. Except I refused to indulge in any of the faerie-kin chants that were supposed to help you unlock your gift, so instead I just made some satisfying noises.
“Ooom, ooom…” I enjoyed the resonance in my chest. “Ooom. Ooo-uhhh. Ooo-uhhh. Uhh-eeee.”
I’m not sure how much time passed before I heard the crunch of footsteps approaching. The sound pleased me. I didn’t even open my eyes. I knew Dad wouldn’t judge me—he loves me and he loves crystals—so I kept chanting.
Then Leo said, “Whatcha doing?”
My eyes sprang open. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Pretending to meditate,” he said, peering down at me.
“I’m not pretending.”
“Really? Because it sounds like you’re trying to communicate with whales.”
“Very funny,” I said.
“Are you one with universe yet?”
“We’re all one with the universe, Leo. That’s why it called the universe.”
“Whoa. Deep.”
I stuck my tongue out. “I’m here because Deja and Shrig asked me to try something.”
“Try what?”
“Drugs and crystals.”
“Ha! You’re trying to unlock your gift!”
“I am not, you jerk! I’m just having a good time. I don’t need a gift. Edibles and nature are enough to open my mind and free my energy and…” I eyed him. “You’re teasing me.”
“After you bit my head off, I couldn’t resist.” He plucked an apple off the tree. “Is it working? Is your mind untethered?”
“Those aren’t ripe,” I told him.
He took a bite, then made a face.
“Told you.” I enjoyed watching him try to lick the bitter fuzziness from his tongue. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
He chucked the bitten apple into the tall wild grass.
“Looking for you. Albert wants you to review the sheet music that Gabe donated to the library. The stuff from his grandfather.”
“I thought you were doing that.”
“I don’t have anything to do with music,” he said.
I sat up. “Just like you don’t have anything to do with normal girls.”
“What?” he frowned at me.
“Oh, you don’t remember telling me that normal girls are just disposable flings? What kind of asshole tells a seventeen-year-old girl who is totally in love with him that he’ll dump her in an instant if she stays normal? And the way you said it. Like of course you’d break up with me. Dames!”
He took a breath. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all these years?”
“No, Leo. That’s why I’ve been angry at you all these years.”
He looked toward the ocean. “I was a very stupid kid.”
“You were! You were a stupid kid.”
I eyed him carefully. His jawline had become more defined and there were faint laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. From all the jokes we hadn’t shared because he’d said that terrible thing to me years ago.
He returned my stare. “Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t know.” I let out a puff of air. “Are you still stupid?”
“No. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Really?”
“Really, Pan. You’re right.” He shot me a charmingly contrite expression. “I just—there’s nobody like you. I never stopped missing you. Can we at least go back to being friends?”
I fiddled with one of Deja’s crystals. “I don’t know, Leo. I like holding grudges.”
“Please,” he said. “C’mon, your mind is completely open right now.”
“What would being friends even look like?”
“Well, here’s a start. My mom promised Albert that you’d help at the library.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, and if you don’t come through he’ll probably blame her.”
I sighed and closed my eyes again. He knew I could never say no to his mother.
“You play a dirty game,” I said.
“So I’ll see you soon?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Thanks, Pan,” he said.
Even with my eyes closed, I heard the smile in his voice.
I didn’t respond, though, and after a moment I heard him walk away.
I felt a smile on my own face when I remembered him saying that he’d been stupid, that he’d been wrong.
That he’d learned his lesson. We’d just been kids.
Best friends who’d tried dating and it hadn’t worked out. I could let it go, couldn’t I?
Yes, yes I could—as long as I thought about him saying there wasn’t anyone else like me, that he missed me. And Diary, even after all these years, I felt the same.
If anything, I had Leo to thank for my whole sense of self. Gift or no gift, I was okay being me, with all my flaws and charms, ugliness and beauty, doldrums and sparks. And I wasn’t going to let some man make me feel I like needed something more magical to complete me.
Then I imagined Leo heading to the boathouse, taking one of the kayaks out. The sun glistening in his hair, his muscles straining as he paddled, sprays of water splashing him, plastering his shirt to his chest… oh Dames, I was in trouble.
After the edible wore off, I collected Deja’s crystals and headed into the kitchen, where I found Sheila busy with pickles and marinades.
Dad, of course, is able to grow whatever she asks for, despite Maine’s rocky soil and short growing season.
Not only does that provide some rare ingredients—and the whole garden-to-table aesthetic—but it helps with the Inn’s budget.
It is much cheaper to grow perilla leaves than to buy them from Boston.
Yeah, Diary, I don’t know what they are either.
So while she worked her gastronomical magic, Dad made thick slabs of toast and a dinner salad of fresh veggies.
Tragically, Mom made her usual meal—a bowl of frozen peas and a can of tuna.
I don’t want to talk about it. She joined us in the kitchen nook while Sheila added green beans to jars, and Dad cracked a bottle of wine.
Mom poured us each a glass, then raised hers. “To me!”
Dad clinked her glass. “It went well?”
“Perfectly!” she said, then explained to me, “We have guests with a toddler. They’re trying to break her pacifier habit, but it’s rough. So I rearranged the furniture, put together a sleeping nook, and tonight she won’t make a peep.”
“How come we never did that with Pandora?” Dad asked.
“You refused to give up your pacifier,” Mom explained to me. “We had to pretend there was a binky fae who needed it for another baby.”
“I believed that!” I said, because faerie tales hit different when you’re raised with real magic.
“Of course you did,” Dad said. “Even normal kids believe in faerie tales.”
They reminded me that I’d gone through a lively stage as a toddler—though Mom used the word “feral”—then talked about the next day’s schedule. Mom needed to redecorate the incoming guests’ rooms and Dad planned to spend the day planting the dry beans that keep us going in the winter.