Chapter Ten Nora
Chapter Ten
Nora
Even when you don’t feel powerful, your magic is.
—Rules for Witches
Nora had messages from Ben when she woke up in the morning. She smiled at the screen and unlocked the phone. There were pictures of the views from the hike he and his group had gone on the day before. She hit the phone icon and dialed out.
He answered.
“Hi,” she said. “I just really miss you. I miss your voice. Tell me about everything.”
“Nora, hi.”
She heard him shifting something, and she tried to imagine what he was doing. He didn’t sound all that happy to hear from her. “I wanted to touch base.”
“I don’t think it’s a great idea for us to talk right now.”
The words stunned her. “What?”
“There’s a reason I’ve been sticking to text,” he said.
“I know, with the time difference and everything, it’s kind of tricky.” Except they were only three hours ahead. But there was a little bit involved in that.
“I left so I could have space. I didn’t want to ghost you or anything, and I like messaging with you. But . . . I really need this time to myself.”
Words got jumbled up inside her, and she couldn’t sort through them, couldn’t figure out what to say to that. What about what she needed?
She cleared her throat to buy herself a second. “You made it sound like you needed time to think.”
“I do.”
“About yourself.”
“About us too,” he said. “I’m not happy. Our relationship is a big part of that.”
His words were like a bullet ripping through her chest. “What?”
“I think if you recall our conversation before I left, I said that to you.”
“You didn’t. Not really.” Yes, there had been some criticisms of her, but he’d made it clear he needed some time away, and it had to do with him and where he was in his life. She was sure of that. Almost.
The maddening calm in his voice just about shattered her.
“Your mural looks great. Thanks for sending the pictures of your progress. I can’t wait to see it when I get back.”
It was like whiplash. How could he say something like that? Like they would see each other and everything would be normal, after he said that.
“I have to go. We’re about to sit down to lunch.”
“Yeah. Sure.” God. What was wrong with her? She did not go quietly into any good night, and here she was, letting his comment defeat her.
She felt like a zombie all the way to the apothecary, and when she got there, Daisy was telling Aggie about the spells, with a solemn-looking Soraya standing there.
The spells hadn’t done anything for Nora.
She felt more than humiliated. She felt stupid.
She had really been taking the separation as something that was about Ben and his need to find himself.
There were things about her that made connection hard, and it had hurt that he’d said that.
But he hadn’t said their relationship was the problem.
“They worked,” Daisy said.
“I’m completely unsurprised,” said Aggie. “I told you. Everyone has magic. But some have a little bit more than others.”
“How do you know?” Daisy asked. “Who has more or what will work or . . . anything?”
Aggie smiled. “Intuition.”
Intuition. Did Nora have any of that? A pet rock probably had more intuition than she did.
The day ticked by slowly. Nora sold ten smudge sticks, several herb spell bundles, four tarot decks, and three tarot journals.
Soraya stayed busy on the baking side, while Daisy talked to a few women who came in asking for advice on spells.
Nora watched as Daisy flipped through them and grew more confident.
Was it real? It felt like it sometimes, but then everything else around her seemed distinctly not magic.
Her life felt like the furthest thing from a manifested dream, so how could it be?
Just another Ouija board. Her wanting to feel hope in something and being an idiot.
When they closed for the night, Nora could see that Aggie had something on her mind. “Daisy said you had success with your spells,” Aggie said to Nora.
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
“Don’t you?”
It really wasn’t fair. The baseball game had been like a comedy of errors.
If there had been a single cloud in the sky, it would’ve gone directly over David’s head and rained buckets on him alone.
She’d asked for a sign, and now she felt reluctant to take it.
But if there was a divine plan in the world, why was her life such a shit show from childhood to now? That didn’t make sense to her.
“What’s wrong?” Aggie asked.
“Nothing.” She was silent for a long moment.
“I always wanted to believe in magic. But when you’re a kid with no hope for anything better, you can’t.
There’s nothing out there in the universe big enough, or powerful enough, to come down and save you.
If there is, that’s almost worse, because nothing did.
The idea I could have fixed my situation by putting herbs into a bundle or praying harder or turning in a circle three times while chanting in Latin just kills me. ”
Aggie shifted closer to her. “Magic doesn’t take the darkness out of the world, Nora.”
Nora laughed, almost hysterically, certainly not with humor. “Is this where you tell me we need darkness to see the stars or some shit?”
Aggie shook her head. “No. The darkness isn’t there to help the stars shine. The stars shine to spite the darkness.” She put her hand on Nora’s. “The magic lives inside you in spite of it all.”
Her words touched a hidden, bruised place in Nora, and she didn’t want them to. She was tired of all this. Of living without a guarantee of anything. Of having to shine through the darkness while the darkness got thicker, heavier.
“I talked to Ben earlier. It’s just . . .” She stared down at her hands. “He said our relationship is part of why he’s unhappy. And he doesn’t think we should talk while he’s gone. Not on the phone.”
“Oh.” Soraya pressed her hand to her chest, like Nora’s pain hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” Aggie said.
“It’s just a rough patch,” Nora said. And she despised that she said that. She wasn’t an optimist. She wasn’t naive. But this marriage had made her want to be. It made her want to believe in a love she never had.
Was she the stars? Shining in spite of it all?
It didn’t feel quite as glorious as that. She didn’t feel like stars. She felt like what she was: a thirty-five-year-old woman who’d been hoping—secretly, shamefully, for so long—and now had that hope crushed.
“Come. Sit down.” Aggie beckoned Nora over to a low table at the center of the room. Daisy and Soraya followed, though as Nora, Daisy, and Aggie sat down, Soraya stayed back. A small pouch, rose petals, and crystals were spread out on the table.
“When I feel hopeless, I do a spell. We can’t control everything, or everyone. But we can make our intentions into actions. It’s better than sitting in sadness, I find.”
“Do you have any love spells?” Nora asked, trying to laugh again.
Trying not to seem as sad and hopeful as she was.
That was the really sad part. She wanted the hope to be drained from her, beaten out of her by all the shit that had happened to her, but it just never was.
It kept on, relentless and painful, a new opportunity to be devastated every single day.
“Soraya, can you get some selenite out of the bin?” Aggie asked.
Nora was fascinated that Soraya didn’t balk but went to grab the pale-white stone.
Aggie pushed the selenite, rose petals, and a piece of paper toward her.
God, this was hideous. Was she actually going to put a love spell on her own husband? Almost as hideous as having to show faith in the idea of magic and miracles. If only she could be half as cynical as she pretended.
You’ve seen it. You’ve seen it all come together since you met Daisy and Soraya at the hospital.
Why not try this?
An image of Sam filtered through her mind. Of the embarrassment she felt the last time she’d tried to appeal to the divine for answers.
I just want someone to love me.
She despised that she felt this way. That Ben had made her feel this way. She still wanted him back. She wanted their life back.
“Write your desires down on the paper.”
Aggie passed a short pencil to Nora, and Nora sat there, holding the pencil in her hand, poised over the paper. “I just write what I want?”
“Yes.”
“How? I mean, isn’t there a formula to this?”
“Some people like to write out a spell as if their desire is something they have already. Some like to make requests. Some prefer poetry. If you want to get really dramatic, you can turn in a circle three times and speak in Latin. This is all about your magic, Nora.”
Her magic. She wanted to believe in it.
She wanted to believe in anything right now, so she’d have some sign that she might be okay.
She lowered her head and looked at the paper. “I just write it.”
“Three times,” Aggie said.
I have the love I deserve.
She paused and studied the sentence. She hadn’t been aware that was what she was going to write.
She imagined Sam again, looking at her, watching her do this.
She felt hot, flustered like she had all those years ago, angry, and filled with a deep yearning she couldn’t quite put a name to.
Then she pushed that away and thought about Ben.
About their wedding. Their marriage. Their life.
He would want to come back to it. He would have to.
I have the love I deserve.
I have the love I deserve.
Aggie struck a match and lit a wide candle at the center of the table. It sparked, and then the fire burned to life. “Seal your intentions with flame, and put the ashes into the bag with the selenite and the rose petals. Then put it under your pillow.”
Nora lifted the paper, her hand shaking, and touched the corner to the fire.
It went up in a flash, before turning to shimmering ashes.