13. Hourglass
Hourglass
W hen I woke up the next day, cold bit at my skin and sank its fangs into my bones.
I pulled the many, many blankets even further up around my chin to find any reprieve. The move only made me hiss. The cold made me feel stiff and made moving close to painful. Usually, my bedroom’s massive windows were cracked open overnight to allow for a cool autumn breeze to caress my face during this time of year. The chill of the wind was rarely too much for me, and I preferred to be cold over being hot, anyway. But today, my windows were closed. Every blanket I owned was piled on top of me. Dinah’s fat ass laying on me as the warming weighted blanket she tended to be wasn’t doing anything, either. Even clinging to my stuffed bunny, Stella Love, I had since I was a baby did nothing for me like it usually did when I was on my period or feeling sick.
I just couldn’t seem to get warm.
Once we had left Chill’s, the outside had been warm enough to combat the cold. In the car, Quinn blasted the heat and turned on the seat warmers for everyone—Seat warmers in every seat? The luxury . We were all cold and decided a coffee trip was in order. After some hot coffees and chocolates to warm us from the inside out, we headed back to their mansion to say our goodbyes. Cole made out with Simone, and Quinn gave me a quick soft kiss on the lips. Both were enough to illicit jokes from Cody and a swift elbow in his ribs from Maisie. On the drive home, I kept my seat warmers and my personal vents blasted on the highest heat the car could muster. Even at home, the cold refused to leave me.
Was I getting sick from being on the ice so long without a coat or something?
“Hey, Cleo?” She lit up on my nightstand. “Can you start my morning shower routine but on the hottest possible setting?”
“Too easy! Consider it done.”
I heard the shower turn on. On one of my windowsills, a candle ignited, making my room smell like pumpkin bread fresh from the oven—very seasonally appropriate. The beats of my favorite sleepy lo-fi hip-hop station switched to a soothing morning R&B, pop, and hip-hop playlist starting with “Good Days” by SZA. The large jasper, carnelian, and sunstone crystals that charged during the day on my windowsill started glowing to the music as if they were dancing to its beat. Distantly, I heard the beginnings of boiling water in my glass teapot on another windowsill. I watched a green tea bag float to my favorite mug, reading “Cup of Ambition.” On their own, honey swirled into it and lemon juice poured itself in. Soon, the teapot lifted to pour water in to steep.
Gods, I loved living in a modern magical world.
“Are you feeling a little under the weather? Your internal temperature is reading lower than usual despite it being sunny and with a forecasted high of seventy-four degrees outside. Would you like me to raise the thermostat in your room? It’s currently on cooling, at sixty-nine degrees.”
“Yes, please. Can you set it to heating?”
“Done. Would you like to hear your Tarotscope?”
“Not today, Cleo.” The spoon in my mug clinked against the sides as the teabag was removed and placed into the trash. Despite the steam from the freshly brewed cup, I took a sip. It should have burned my tongue, but it quickly sent warmth throughout my whole body. I chugged the entire cup in just a few gulps and felt the heat pool in my stomach. It was enough liquid courage for me to face the cold in my room. Dinah yowled as I shifted, but she got the hint and jumped to the end of the bed instead. I shoved all the covers away, threw my legs over the bed’s edge, and headed to the shower while I had some heat still left within me.
The bathroom was filled with fog, rolling in large clouds from the shower. The steam alone helped, but the shower? It felt like pure heaven . The water heated me down to my soul. I didn’t want to leave. I stayed long after I had bathed until the hot water ran out.
A towel floated over from my heated towel rack and encircled me. A microfiber towel—because lint was a bastard to get out of locs, you have no idea—wrapped around my locs to dry them. Snuggled in the towels and savoring the hot steam, I went over to my mirror and rubbed the fog away. I began my facial routine.
Black can definitely crack if you don’t hydrate and moisturize, and I had a whole process.
Giving my serum a moment to soak in, I started lotioning while sitting on the edge of my deep-soaker tub. When I reached my shoulders, I paused and went over to the mirror. I turned with my back facing the mirror and looked. I had to squint to see without my glasses, but the image was still discernible.
All I saw were my scars. They branched out from my spine, spreading toward my shoulders, sides, and down toward my ass. They were raised and lighter in color than the rest of my skin. Still, if I stared long enough at all the scars as a collective, there was something there. I could just barely make out what it was, its outline and shape. It kind of looked like…
“Dragonfly wings?” I was suddenly overcome by a strange sense of déjà vu. Not just because Quinn had said the same thing at Chill’s, but it almost felt like I had heard someone else say it before years ago?—
“Byrdie, you have a new text message. Do you want me to read it?”
“No, I’ll get my phone,” I replied to Cleo. I quickly put on my moisturizer, wrapped myself in my fluffy robe, and left the bathroom. I put on my glasses and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.
QUEENIE ??
Good morning, baby girl. I hope you slept well and had some sweet dreams. Maybe some had me in it? ?? I had such a fun two days with you, sweetness. You are so beautiful and fun. Nat is still talking about you. It was great seeing you interact with my crazy family. I can’t wait for us to do it again. Anyway, I hope you have a great day!
Baby girl . I could scream seeing every word Quinn had sent on my phone’s screen. Instead, I smiled so big my cheeks started hurting. Quinn and I had exchanged numbers at the party, but since we had spent most of the time together, we hadn’t texted until now. The Good Morning text was the morning coffee of the dating experience: the best start to the day, absolutely delicious when done correctly, and one of my favorite things on the planet. And this one was perfectly brewed and served. As many times as I had received a text like this, there was something different about this time, something that felt like this was the first of many, but this was a valuable and important first. The idea of Quinn was becoming more material and solid. I laid back onto my bed and covered up with the blankets.
I responded:
ME
OMG, good morning! I did sleep very well, actually. No dreams about you, unfortunately, but I also didn’t dream a lot tonight. Maybe I will get lucky tonight… ?? I had so much fun this weekend, too! I can’t wait to go on another date with you. Your family is wild but so fun. I had a great time with them, too. Any plans today?
I didn’t have to wait long for the Delivered to be marked as Read . The three dots popped up and hovered for just a moment before her text appeared:
QUEENIE ??
I like the sound of getting lucky. ?? Honestly, no plans! Looking forward to just enjoying my first day off from work in a while. Nat and I will probably smoke, go eat, and watch some trashy reality TV. A well-deserved chill day. Wbu?
ME
The girls are coming over soon! We are going to do a little bit of a sleepover with pizza, wings, wine, and some ANTM while doing some research. It should be fun!
QUEENIE ??
Oh, so toxic, but so entertaining that show. What is your go-to pizza and wing combination?
ME
The blackface and fat-shaming get me every time honestly. We watch the show for the contestants more so than Tyra, who is absolutely unhinged. My favorite pizza is a bacon, Canadian bacon, four-cheese, and pineapple. I love garlic parmesan wings, but I’m also a sucker for ranch.
QUEENIE ??
We are on the same page with the pizza. I would add meatballs to it. So. Fucking. GOOD! You lost me at ranch. I’m not a huge sauce person. My dad ruined them for me because he hated them so much. It made me do it, too.
ME
I’m so sorry that your dad refused to let you be great and enjoy the best parts of life. ??
QUEENIE ??
LOL! You have no idea. So, what’s your research about? I thought you said you had graduated from school already?
ME
I have! I have a masters, bachelors, and some certifications.
I paused with my fingers hovering over the virtual keyboard, unsure of if I should tell her or not. Would it bring down the mood? Should I lie? No, I could never lie to her. Honesty and communication are key to any relationship from every rom-com book or movie that I have read or seen. Besides, even withholding the truth from her made my stomach hurt with guilt. And I couldn’t get the memory of her worried face and pulsing leg at Chill’s out of my head. I quickly typed up an additional text:
ME
The research is about my scars. Remember how you said that they looked like a tattoo? Well, no one else can see that, so we are trying to figure out why.
QUEENIE ??
Holy shit. I promise you I’m not making it up. It’s kind of crazy because I showed the picture I took to Nat and Cole, and they both see scars on your back instead of ink, too. I feel insane, but I swear I don’t see the scars.
My stomach sank. My fingers were a blur as I typed:
ME
OMG! I’m so sorry you feel crazy about this! I promise it isn’t just you, and you aren’t insane, starlight. Maze saw some magic flowing from my back, so something else is going on. I believe you. It’s because I believe you that I want to get to the bottom of things.
QUEENIE ??
Thank you, but you have no reason to feel bad about this. It isn’t your fault, baby. What happened to your back, if you don’t mind my asking?
ME
You can ask me anything, Queen. Basically, I fell from a tree when I was 13. I always heard I was lucky to have survived it.
QUEENIE ??
Holy fuck. I’m so sorry, Byrd. That is terrible.
ME
Honestly, I’m kind of obsessed with you seeing a tattoo instead of my scars. There’s something very pretty about it.
QUEENIE ??
I actually wish I could see your scars instead. That is more original than any tattoo, and I bet it’s beautiful, just like you are. ??
ME
Okay, THAT is pretty and very romantic.
QUEENIE ??
I’m gay AF, but only for you, baby. ??
Suddenly, Cleo chimed softly near my bed. “The girls are out front with the ‘goyles. Would you like them to be sent up?”
I chuckled like I always did, hearing her perky yet robotic voice say “‘goyles.” “Yes, please! Can you unlock the door for them also and let them know?”
“Done and done!”
I let Quinn know that the girls were headed up before tossing my phone on the bed and heading to my closet. The warmth from my shower was starting to fade, and the chill was beginning to return again. So, I decided to put on my thickest and comfiest sweatsuit set, which consisted of a light blue cargo pant and a matching cropped hoodie that showed the tiniest sliver of stomach and tattoos. I put on some mismatched fluffy socks and my house ankle boots. I topped the look off with a silk-lined navy blue beanie over my locs to keep my scalp warm. I plucked my phone from the bed and my laptop from its charger on the desk. Then I pulled my favorite thickest blanket out from on top of the bed to wrap around my shoulders. I left my bedroom with Dinah in tow behind me, yowling as usual for no reason.
Leaving the hallway, I came upon Everett in the kitchen pulling bags of coffee beans from the above cabinets. He raised an eyebrow at my bundled appearance, but he didn’t mention it as he said. “Good morning, kiddo! I was wondering when you would emerge from your cave. I was about to brew some coffee. Want some?”
“Uh, am I black?” I joked. As he chuckled, I added. “Go ahead and grab cups for Simone and Maisie. They are on their way up.”
He got my favorite mug—one from my childhood with Sailor Moon on it in her iconic crime-fighting pose—along with two others that were Simone’s and Maisie’s favorites, an iridescent one that we had gotten when Everett took us camping for the first time and one shaped like a cactus. He filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. Uncle Everett was a purist when it came to coffee. He could talk for days about how certain beans tasted and whatnot. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t care because I usually liked my sweet cream oat milk-based coffee creamer with only a side of coffee.
“Seeing the girls again so soon?” Everett measured the coffee beans to grind them.
“Yeah, we figured we would have a little sleepover tonight! We have to catch up for all the time we missed while they were away, and we didn’t get to hang out as much during the party. Is that okay?”
“Of course! I love those girls. Besides, I’m eager to hear how the party?—”
“Hello!” I heard Simone before she entered, followed by Maisie. They were both dressed just as cozy as I was minus extra layers. Their overnight bags and laptop bags floated behind them on a bed of Maisie’s magic. I went and hugged them.
“Haven’t seen you two in ages!” Maisie joked.
“Ohmigod! Is that Everett’s famous coffee?” Simone gasped, heading to the counter. “In our favorite mugs? What have we done to be so spoiled this weekend?”
Uncle Everett chuckled. “Oh, these aren’t for nothing. Y’all owe me tea if you want this coffee.”
The girls’ bags settled onto the floor of the living room, and I placed my laptop on an end table nearby while we hopped onto the barstools. Uncle Everett prepared and served our coffees how we liked them while we chatted with him about the party, the morning after, brunch, our date at Chill’s, and our coffee date after. He raised his eyebrow when I told him to give me more coffee than creamer for the first time ever, but he didn’t delve any deeper about it and I was grateful. I didn’t understand this never-ending cold I felt, let alone how to explain it to someone else. I savored the warmth from the mug in my hands, the steam hitting my face, and the fog of my glasses. It took some of the chilled edge off my skin.
“Sounds like you kiddos had a lot of fun! Leave it to Byrd to meet someone in the clumsiest way possible. You are nothing if not on brand.” Everett smiled my way while I stuck my tongue out at him. “I can’t wait to meet Quinn, though. She sounds adorable for you.”
“She definitely is! You know she sent me a ‘Good Morning’ text this morning. It was so sweet.”
“Ohmigod! Cole sent me one, too! His was a little less sweet and a bit more spicy .” Simone bit her lip before lifting her mug to drink.
I made a face. “You straights are freaking weird. Isn’t there a time frame for morning wood pics? Isn’t it like breakfast or something where it only happens during certain times?”
“Oh, honey, not with cis-men.” Maisie shook her head. “Dick pics are like waffles at Wa-Ho. Always being sent out twenty-four-seven, even on holidays and during natural disasters, no matter if you order them or not. They are also poorly made more often than not, but are great when received while drunk.”
I laughed along with everyone. “So, Cody sent you one, huh?”
“He sent me, like, five last night, yes.” Maisie sipped her coffee. “You want to see?”
“That’s horrifying.” I scrunched my nose. “But obviously, yes.”
As Maisie pulled her phone from her sweatpants pocket, Everett shook his head. “I will never understand why you, as a lesbian, always say yes to looking at dick pics. You are always so eager.”
“Uh, because they are fascinating, and I like to judge—Oh my god, he’s huge ,” I said as Maisie showed me and Simone the pictures. They were actually pretty good quality and showed his piercing nicely.
Everett came around the bar to look over our shoulders. I heard his jaw as it dropped. “ Wow .”
“Right?” Maisie said, scrolling through the pictures.
“I don’t know whether I should be impressed that these are so good or icky that he is able to take such good ones first thing in the morning,” Simone said.
Maisie waved her off. “Well, he’s just a fling. Unlike Cole and Quinn, this one is not ready to be a real boy and have a relationship. Which is perfect for my noncommittal ass who literally just wants a situationship, anyway.”
“We stan a queen who knows what she wants and gets it.” Everett raised his mug to Maisie.
“Well, speaking of relationships and the real men who are ready for them, did you have fun with Mr. Teddy this weekend?” I said over my mug.
Everett smiled and nodded, a fondness glowing in his eyes. “Yes, a lot of fun, actually. He spent the night here Thursday and came over Friday to spend the night again after work. We watched movies, and he cooked again. It was nice and sweet. I don’t know. I think I might be in love with him… maybe? I guess?”
I almost spit out my coffee. “ Fucking finally! I thought you would never admit it! It’s been almost two years !”
Uncle Everett rolled his eyes. “You are love-obsessed, kiddo.”
“Yeah, but you have been in love with Thompson since you two went to that barcade and the dessert shop after, and that was when y’all were together for, like, seven months. You have been in this love limbo where you haven’t said the words because you are scared of feelings. I may be a hopeless romantic, but you are the lead in a rom-com who is scared of saying anything because you don’t want to ‘ruin’ the relationship,” I said with finger quotes.
“You are so dramatic! Teddy knows how I feel about him, and we will say those three words when we are ready. You can’t rush these things.”
“Sure, Jan,” I replied, drinking more of my coffee. “Sounds very rom-com to me.”
“Bee isn’t wrong,” Simone agreed.
“She does have a knack for these kinds of things,” Maisie shrugged.
Uncle Everett rolled his eyes again and picked up his mug. “Okay, I’m going to go back to my room now. I’m clearing out space for Teddy, so he can come around more often. And before you ask, he isn’t moving in . It’s just so he can spend the night, we can have more fun weekends together more often, and so it’s easier for him to get to and from work. I was going through my stuff and getting ready to donate some things?—”
“OoOoh, can I go through it before you donate it? Your shirts are the best !” I adored Everett’s old shirts. Everett’s six-foot-seven, broad muscular frame made his shirts oversized on me. They were big cozy, and I loved wearing them to bed or to laze around the house. I had been wearing his and Pops’ old shirts since I was a kid, and it was a habit I had never broken even to this day with shirts I hadn’t outgrown. They were free, so it did save me hundreds on pajamas.
“Come on then, kiddo. I have already made a nice dent in my room and have a few piles for donation.”
The four of us headed to Uncle Everett’s room, the second room on the right in the hallway. Everett’s room was an opposite to my own. While mine was colorful, light, and very bo-ho, Everett’s was darker and far more modern. His furniture was all wood and steel. There was a navy accent wall behind his California king bed, and the bed only had a few pillows and a throw over his duvet and sheets. A closet and ensuite were on the wall to the right of the doorway. Normally, Everett’s room was tidy, with the bed made and the entire room pristine. But today, there were piles of clothes, books, boxes, and random knickknacks all over the floor, bed, and every available surface. There was a small path along the floor to walk and a tiny space before the bed, but that was it.
“Someone’s hoarding tendencies are really coming to bite them in the ass, huh?” I teased, nudging him with my elbow.
“Shut up,” Everett led the way along the path toward his bed. “It isn’t hoarding, it’s staying prepared for anything.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said as I bent over a pile of very old electronics. “Keeping computer junk from before I was born is definitely about staying prepared. What even is this? I feel like I can hear the sound of trying to get on the internet and hoping no one calls just from looking at this—Holy shit, is that a floppy disk ?”
“Okay, okay, okay. You’ve made your point, you little menace. The t-shirt pile is over there on that side of the room.”
“No, no, no, my kind sir. You have opened this Pandora’s Box, and there’s no putting a lid on this.” I put the modem down and gasped at a stack of small boxes. “Is that my old Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego? game? Oooh, and my copy of Sims 2 ?”
“What even are these, Byrd?” Simone said, plucking a copy of a Reader Rabbit game from the stack.
“These are all my old computer games! When I was a kid, I didn’t get a gaming system until I was like ten, but we had a computer. My mom used to only let me play computer games if they were educational, and my dad was only able to sneak a few non-edutainment games in there a year. So, I can literally tell you so much about Egyptian mummification, who wrote the first novel ever, the trading of salt in Africa, and the first man in space because of Carmen Sandiego . These games were so much fun!”
“Gods, you used to spend hours playing and replaying those games. Even when you got older, you used to just pop them into the computer and still play them on raining Saturdays after your cartoons,” Everett said while he folded a shirt on the bed.
“Yeah, because they were awesome and the music was amazing ! Wow, I thought we lost these forever!”
“Might as well be lost forever. You can’t even play these anymore,” Maisie said, turning over an old Rugrats game.
“You can absolutely play these! You just have to get a CD reader and portable version of Windows?—”
“Have you showed Quinn how much of a nerd you can be? Does she know what she’s in for yet?” Maisie teased.
“No, but no time like the present!” I got my phone from one of my pockets and snapped a picture of as many old computer games as I could while Maisie and Simone chuckled. I typed up a text to Quinn.
“Aren’t you happy I’m a hoarder now?” Uncle Everett joked.
“The first step toward help is admitting you have a problem, Uncle Ever,” I said, earning another eye roll from him.
“Ohmigod, Byrdie! Look at this!” Simone squealed from where she and Maisie sat in front of an old cardboard box. There was fading Sharpie on it that read: Girls’ Old Things . I recognized the handwriting before the box itself. It was Pops’ handwriting, a sharp and quick cursive. His handwriting always reminded me of gothic letters, like those written by Edgar Allen Poe. I traced my hand over the marks. This was a box from when we packed up my childhood house—the only home I had ever known—after Mom died.
When we packed up that house, we were in such a rush to leave it and the memories of Mom that seemed to fill every brick and board of that house. We wanted to escape, not from my mom and our grief, but from the almost-ness of her presence in that house. It was always like you could turn around and she would be right there. In our haste to leave, anything that wasn’t immediately necessary was tossed into a box. This particular box, with all of its nostalgia, was one of those things. It was strange how things had a way of disappearing and reappearing in life, just like old keys you had lost or a jacket you had misplaced.
“Wow, Bee, I never would have thought you liked Barbie and Bratz?”
Maisie snapped me out of my thoughts, and I smiled at the dolls in her hands. “Fuck yeah, I did! Mom refused to let me play with a white doll, so when she couldn’t find black Barbies easily, she started buying me Bratz dolls. Sasha and Yazmin were always easier to find in Toys R Us than Chloe and Jade.”
“Aw, look at this picture of baby Byrdie!” Simone pulled out a few framed pictures from the box and pointed at little me in the first one. I had to be about seven in the picture with my cute little red gingham pattern dress and matching bows in my plaited hair. Mom, Pops, Uncle Everett, and Aunt Max kneeled behind me at one of Aunt Max’s summer cookouts. The table was set behind us with Auntie Max’s mouth-wateringly delicious barbecue, but we figured it was best to get a picture before our fingers and hands required wet wipes.
“Oh, my gods! That’s us at one of Auntie Max’s cookouts. The food used to be so bomb there!”
“Yeah, she used to marinate that meat for days in advance,” Uncle Everett said from behind us. Without even turning to look, I knew his eyes were glistening from happy memories past. I could hear it weigh on his voice. “Man, she used to be able to work magic on that grill. The meat would be so flavorful and fall off the bone. You can’t get food like that anywhere else but from Max.”
“Y’all would have loved her. She was awesome,” I said, caressing her face as if I could reach out and touch her. After all this time, I had forgotten so many tiny details about her, like how her gold piercings glittered in the sun or how her smile was so gorgeous. I couldn’t remember her laugh anymore or some of her mannerisms. Gods, I wanted to be like her so bad. I thought she was so cool—no wonder I’m as pierced and tatted as I am now with locs going down my back.
“The best,” Everett agreed.
I set aside the picture to put in my room later before moving onto another picture. I immediately laughed. “This is me at my first ever ballet recital.”
“Ohmigod, are you a lily pad ?” Simone asked through her hands over her mouth.
“I was four, and it was Swan Lake ?—”
“And she was the cutest lily pad up there!” Uncle Everett said. “She was so adorable even as she was tripping over her own feet. She almost made the whole ensemble fall off the stage?—”
“Oh, look at this picture that is not an embarrassing memory!” I interrupted. Uncle Everett chuckled while I rolled my eyes. Still, I took a picture and sent it to Quinn before going to the next one.
This one was of Mom and Pops alone. They were under an apple tree on a beautiful fall day. The leaves had turned and were falling already among the beautiful bright red and yellow fruit. Mom wore a stunning lacy dress with a veil pinned in her curls, while Pops wore a white suit with red accents. Their outfits were very eighties and products of their time, but their smiles as they danced under the tree was eternal. Every time I looked at the picture, my heart ached and hungered. For what, I didn’t know exactly. But the picture was always so beautiful it made me teary-eyed, even when I was younger and would look at it on Mom’s dresser.
“These are your parents, aren’t they?”
I nodded to Simone’s question, unable to say anything around the lump in my throat. I had so few pictures of them. This was one of only a couple I knew of, the other being of us on vacation to Disney World when I was four that sat framed on my desk.
“They are so beautiful, Byrdie,” Simone said, wrapping her arms around me. “You look just like your mom.”
“Except for your eyes and skin, that’s your Dad,” Maisie noticed. “Oh, but you definitely don’t have their fashion sense. A white suit? Gross.”
I let out a chuckle and sniffed. My friends always knew the right thing to say to break me out of a funk.
“Hey, cut them some slack! It was the late 80s back then. No one knew how to make good fashion choices,” Everett argued.
“Oh, yeah, I can tell from that windbreaker outfit in your hand. Dude, I can hear that from miles away,” Maisie said.
I glanced back and, sure enough, I saw a neon green and purple and blue windbreaker jacket and pants in Uncle Everett’s hands. I grimaced. “We aren’t keeping that, are we?”
“Y’all are haters. This is coming back in!”
“Yeah, Everett, so is the flu. I think we need to revisit your keeps and your giveaways,” Simone said, letting me go and rising from the floor. Maisie followed.
The three of them started to argue behind me about the meaning of vintage and fashion history and how much pieces were worth if you kept them in pristine condition. I ignored them as I received a text notification:
QUEENIE ??
You were so stinking cute, baby, and you still are! You were the most adorable flower!
QUEENIE ??
Also, is that Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego?! I had that growing up! I never got to finish it! I had all the Freddi Fish games growing up, and I did finish those! I used to love computer games. I still love a good Mario or Crash Bandicoot game.
ME
Oh, we are going to have so much fun together, babe. Careful, you might make me obsessed with you.
QUEENIE ??
Sweetness, you can be as obsessed with me as you want. I’m already so obsessed with you. ??
I double-tapped her text message to love it with a heart and continued exploring the box more, hoping for more pictures to send. Instead, I found things from my mom’s and Pops’ bedroom, like her old mirror tray that used to sit on her nightstand and a crystal glass box that used to hold some of her and Pops’ jewelry and cufflinks. There were old children’s books at the bottom of the box—copies of books by Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, The Brothers Grimm, and quirky children’s books—and books Mom particularly enjoyed—like Color Purple and Interview with a Vampire —among old t-shirts I hadn’t seen in years. I was picking up a particularly old Tweety Bird one when I noticed it and some of my other shirts caught on something. Pulling all the shirts up, a leather-bound journal fell without a sound onto the floor.
I stared at the book. It was huge. Lifting it up took two hands, and my hand couldn’t even grasp the spine fully. It was thick enough to rival the tomes I often interacted with at work. Still, the book was surprisingly light despite its size. There had to be over a thousand pages inside. The leather cover was thick with an intricate design of colorful gems and glittering gold lines. All of it sparkled in the light of the room, making rainbows of light dance on the walls and floor. The spine lacked any wording to identify its title, its author, or if there was one of either. The leather appeared ageless, giving no hint to how old or new the book truly was. A strange lock sealed the book closed with no keyhole to open it. Instead, a raw uncut, polished lapis lazuli stone was where a keyhole would be. I had never seen this book before. What was this book? Where had it come from?
“Everett?” I called, interrupting whatever he and the girls were fighting about. I got up to approach them. “What is this?”
I showed him, Maisie, and Simone the book. Maisie and Simone immediately frowned looking at the book. However, Uncle Everett didn’t seem to see it. He stared straight past it to my obsidian pendant resting on my sternum.
“What’s what, kiddo? I don’t see anything.”
Maisie and Simone snapped their heads at him. I deepened the frown I already had. “What do you mean? You don’t see the book in my hands, E?”
“What book?”
“Are you joking ? Uncle Everett, are you okay? I’m talking about this book in my hands right in front of you .”
“I don’t see anything,” He repeated with that same stare like the book was invisible.
I opened my mouth, but Maisie stopped me. Her eyes shifted quickly from brown to purple before she blinked. “Byrd. Stop. He’s been spelled. His eyes are swirling with the exact same magic I saw on your back.”
My stomach sank as my eyes widened. I stared into Uncle Everett’s eyes as if I could see the same magic that only Maisie had the power to see. All I saw was the same glazed over look in his eyes from before.
Like there wasn’t anything in my hands.
But also, like he couldn’t look away from it.
“How is that possible, Maisie?” I asked, not taking my eyes away from Uncle Everett. Worry blossomed in my heart.
“It’s some very, very strong magic. Unlike anything I’ve seen before.” Maisie gestured for me to back up so that she could stand in front of Everett. “Hey, Everett?”
“Yes?” He asked her dreamily, distantly, not fully present or my Everett. His eyes were locked on the pendant swaying around my neck, even though I had moved to the side. I shifted the book to the crook of my arm as I went to grip the stone. To say I was freaked out would be the understatement of the century.
“Hey, I think we could use more coffee. Can we get some of that creamer? The fancy seasonal dessert one that we love?” Maisie asked.
“The white chocolate pumpkin pie?” Everett answered.
“Sure, that one.”
“We ran out of that earlier. I would have to run to the store?—”
“Perfect! Do you mind going?”
Everett plastered a smile on his face. It was so mechanical and placid. It didn’t reach his foggy eyes. “Not at all, girls! Be right back!”
Uncle Everett left without another word, but there was something off-putting in his movements, in his walk. Something was wrong.
“Maisie, is he okay? Is he going to be okay?” I asked.
“Yes, I promise. The spell makes him look out of it, but I swear he’s fine. He’ll be back soon, though, so let’s look at that book.” Maisie nodded toward the book. I didn’t even realize I was white-knuckling it.
I moved the pile of clothes on the bed out of the way and sat the book down in front of all three of us. Directly in front of it, Maisie held her hand over the book. Neon purple clouded the dark brown of her eyes instantly. As quickly as they changed color, they reverted back to normal.
“It’s the book all right,” Maisie said. “It has the same magic swirling over it as in Everett’s and on your back. It’s this sapphire blue with swirls of lavender, orange, pink, and white. I have never seen anything like it before.”
“Can we open it?” Simone asked.
Maisie raised an eyebrow. “You want to open a mysterious book that we have no idea where it came from or what it is that turned Everett into a mindless drone? Girl, have you not paid any attention during the scary movies we watch?”
Both of Simone’s eyebrows rose. “You think Everett would keep a hexed object in the same house as his only beloved niece?”
“Good point,” Maisie shrugged. “But he didn’t even know the book was here when Byrd held it in front of him. Who’s to say it wasn’t cursed to appear for us to open it and unleash unspeakable evil upon the world?”
Simone and Maisie continued debating as I picked up the book to examine it further out of curiosity. The gems actually sparkled with their own light, not from the sunlight from the windows and light in the room. It was so vibrant. The gold in the lines appeared to flow like a river throughout the cover and spine. The blue stone guarding it even seemed to wink with some kind of life all its own, softly calling to me. I was mesmerized. I wanted to follow the gold all over the cover, wherever it would take me. I wanted to stare into the gemstone stars to feel their warmth. I wanted to hold the lapis lazuli close until I could hear her secrets. I wanted to take this book somewhere far from others and hide it, like it was a treasure.
Wait, what? Was I under a spell? Why had this book enraptured me so?
Did I even care?
This book…
Something inside me stretched, taking up more space and beginning to open its eyes.
“Bee? Byrd? You okay?” I heard Simone asking me distantly, but I really didn’t register it.
Touch the stone. No harm will come to you.
A voice. That voice. Where had I heard that voice before? There was peace in its words alongside the strongest sense of déjà vu I had ever felt. Where had that voice come from? Where did I know it from? Why did I so easily believe and trust what it said without any doubt?
Touch the stone. It’s yours. It found you for a reason.
Found me? It was in my box of things. There had to be a reason for it to be there, for me to find it after all this time. Pops had packed the box. Uncle Everett had kept it after all this time. Hell, the girls had been looking in it before I even noticed its existence. If someone else was meant to find it, they would have.
Touch the stone. This voice. I knew it. I had heard before. I had heard it when I needed it, and it had… I don’t remember what it did, but I knew it hadn’t steered me wrong.
I ever so lightly caressed the blue stone with my fingertip. I barely felt the smooth surface of one of the stone’s faces.
It was so small.
It was almost nothing.
But suddenly my obsidian pendant heated up against my chest, warming until I could feel it through my hoodie. It was hot enough to fight off the chill that had been taking root all morning. The lapis lazuli glowed brightly, almost blindingly so. Then as soon as it all had happened, both stopped.
The latch sealing the book flipped open on its own.
And I was left breathless.
“B-Byrd broke the spell,” Maisie said, dreamily. I couldn’t help feeling the same. Did I really just do that? How? Was it because of that voice I heard? How ?
“Maybe we should revisit this being hexed after all,” Simone tried to joke, but she couldn’t stop staring at the book just like me and Maisie.
I swallowed. I wasn’t magical. I was a normie, a regular human. I didn’t have any special abilities. The only reason I knew about the supernatural world was because my parents both had worked in the spaces. My prior knowledge of the supernatural was why Blackbell allowed me inside. But I wasn’t a supernatural person. So, I shouldn’t have been able to open this. I should be scared or freaked out. I should be terrified that I didn’t know what any of this meant. I definitely shouldn’t want to open it further, anyway… right?
Open it. It’s yours .
That voice again.
Open it. No harm will come to you. It’s yours to be found and yours to read. It’s safe.
Shifting the book more onto my right forearm, I gripped the spine of the book tightly. Before I could change my mind or let Maisie’s intake of breath fill me with doubt, I took the cover in my left hand and ripped it open.
Instantly, I was enveloped in the smell of home : my mom’s apple-scented perfume before she left for work, sweet fried pancakes made from scratch on every Saturday morning, Pops’ citrusy and herb body wash wafting from their bathroom, the fresh smell of peaches from the farmer’s market, fire burning on a winter’s night…
It was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
Then I noticed the writing. The pages were made of thick, old parchment that felt both heavy and weightless against my fingertips. Printed on the first page of the book was a tree with a trunk split in two with various branches split off from there. Labels were on each branch with names, dates, and relationships. At the root was my name, Brydgette “Byrd” Fallon Pierce , and my birthdate of September twenty-fourth. Branching from there was my mom’s information on the left: Eleanora “Doe” Doriana Pierce and Pops’ information on the right: Forrest Theodore Pierce . Another pair of branches split from each of their names, along with branches and leaves for all their relatives. All the writing on the labels was in my mom’s handwriting.
“Wow, is that a family tree?” Simone asked next to me looking at the book over my shoulder.
It’s your family tree. The voice within me answered. It had been right. This book was clearly mine. I nodded to respond to Simone. But why was I seeing it only now? Where had it been before?
“Doe and Forrest named their baby Byrd?” Maisie asked with a smile and humor in her voice, interrupting my thoughts.
I smiled, too. “They had a thing, okay?”
I turned the page.
But there was nothing.
I flipped to another page.
Nothing still.
I continued, but I kept finding more of the same.
No magic swirling from the page.
No acrid, pungent air of a curse.
Just the smells of my old house and nothing on the pages.
Not a single word existed on any of them that I could see.
“Byrd? What’s the matter?” Simone asked, sensing my rising distress.
“They’re blank.”
“Blank? No text or writing?” Simone said, her bafflement apparent in her voice.
I shook my head and frowned. There was no ink or graphite. No text, not a single letter. Not even a stray mark. I could see indentations on the pages, but they were like when you pressed against a piece of cardboard while writing notes. They were imprints of writing on top of each other. It was a jumbled chaotic mess.
“How is there nothing?” Maisie asked, glancing over my shoulder with Simone.
This book had to have something . Why magic an empty book?
Wait.
I stopped flipping then and placed my hand on the page to feel the pressing of so many words under my fingertips, like multiple people talking over each other. Once my fingers made contact with the page, my necklace warmed again and words started to ink onto it on the same line where my fingers had caressed, making me snap my hand back. It was as if an imaginary hand was writing there. While surprised, I still felt excited and smiled wide in spite of myself at first.
Yet, that didn’t last long.
Do you want to know the truth, my baby Byrd?