Chapter Twenty Six
When Ophelia returned home in the late afternoon, she walked through the doorway of her bedroom, fell face-first into her bed, and slept till the next morning. She only woke once at one in the morning to relieve her bladder, then immediately fell back to sleep.
Monday morning came like it always did, bringing a feeling of anxiety and only a sliver of motivation.
She had so much to do. The long list in her head kept getting longer, and if she didn’t get to her desk soon to write some of it down, it would surely all be lost. Her phone vibrated, pulling her out of her stress spiral.
It was somewhere in her bed, so she reached around the comforter, finding it tucked under a pillow.
A garden-themed costume. She weirdly had something just for the occasion, compliments to her ever-growing Mardi Gras costume closet. However, she was very, very curious about where he was taking her. Since throwing herself into treating, her feelings for him had slightly cooled.
Ophelia: Mysterious. I like it.
Ophelia tossed her phone to the side and made haste with her morning routine.
She settled herself into her studio with her iced coffee and listed out everything in her mind.
First, there was work: fundraising emails, artist outreach, prep for a weekly call with the board.
Then there was her personal life, which felt like it was in much more need of a list. Groceries, laundry, check news for Cutthroat Killer updates, call Detective Lewis (again), catch up with Jade, confirm work schedule at Prytania Botanica for the month, determine next visit to Oakdale, and schedule practice session with Etienne.
And she still needed to figure out how to incorporate treating into her life.
She felt that familiar overwhelming feeling where there was too much to be done, too little time, and only one person to do it all.
But instead of starting on her bountiful to-do list, she plopped into the giant pillow in her studio and shut down.
Paralyzed. In a world where common human reactions to stress were fight, flight, or freeze, she did not love that she froze.
Ophelia lay there cocooned by the giant pillow, praying for the will to get up and do just one task. Just one.
She did not.
She despised when this happened to her. She knew from school and therapy that it was just her body and psyche trying to relax in response to the stress, but it always felt like laziness.
Thirty minutes ticked by as a storm of thoughts crowded her mind, and just as she was on the verge of panic, her phone vibrated with another text.
Avery: Hey, boo. Rachel is out sick, and she was supposed to work evening shifts this week. Any interest in helping out? I’ll be there all day, but I really need help during the post-work rush. So, like any help from 4:30-7ish would be much appreciated.
Ophelia’s first reaction was horror at the additional thing added to her plate, but was quickly replaced by an unannounced fervor to help her friend, who always helped everyone else.
She extracted herself from the pillow-made cocoon and dragged herself to her computer.
Her schedule showed that she could make it work, and perhaps it was just the distraction she needed to get out of her head.
As she contemplated the request, another text came through.
Avery: Okay, fine. FINE. I’ll give you three of your favorite body oils, too.
Ophelia: If I wait another 5 minutes to respond, what else will you offer?
Avery: Girl, I don’t need you that bad.
Ophelia giggled and waited.
Avery: Fuck, fine. I’ll mow your yard.
Ophelia: God, you’re too easy. You don’t need to give me any of the extras. I’ll be there today at 4:30.
Avery: Love youuuuu. Thank you!
She was up and moving, suddenly ready to take on her to-do list. She crossed “check Botanica schedule” off her list. She wouldn’t have time to hang with Jade in person, so she decided she would call her on her way to Botanica that afternoon. Next on her list was Etienne, and she shot him a text.
Ophelia: Hey E, would you be able to meet up sometime this week after 7 pm to practice?
He didn’t immediately respond, so Ophelia put her phone away so she could concentrate on her Healing Artists’ work.
Ophelia walked into Prytania Botanica at 4:30 with several customers on her tail. The Uptown moms loved their afternoon energy juice shots, and one briskly walked behind Ophelia in her Lululemons to get to the front of the juice bar.
Ophelia hurried behind the counter so as not to get trampled and locked her purse away in a side closet. Avery was assisting a customer with a fixed candle selection, and when he was done ringing the customer up, he finally noticed Ophelia and greeted her.
“Can you handle the register? I’ll work the floor.”
“You got it, boss,” Ophelia said in mock seriousness.
“Oh, and I have a couple special clients coming in later, so I may be preoccupied.”
The following hours went by smoothly with Avery greeting customers, answering their questions, another worker pressing fresh juices, and Ophelia ringing up all the goodies. She felt better already, more at ease than earlier that morning; tasks like this helped bring her out of her head.
Around sunset, a striking woman in her thirties walked into the shop. She was clothed in sleek office wear—tailored pants, leather pumps, perfectly cut blazer. In addition to her expert style, her hair was perfectly dyed a dark mahogany and cascaded in waves past her shoulders.
Avery recognized her immediately and motioned for her to follow him. They walked together behind the counter and went into Avery’s office.
After some time, Avery’s office door opened, and the striking woman walked out of the room. She waited at the door for Avery and gave him a grateful hug.
“Thank you. I mean it. This curse has plagued women in my family for generations, and I’m hopeful it can stop here.”
“I am too, hun. Now grab yourself a gris-gris for extra luck, ’kay? They are over there by the front table.”
The woman nodded and turned to explore the tabletop filled with amulets known as gris-gris.
“How’d it go?” asked Ophelia curiously.
“Good.”
“Can I ask what kind of ritual she wanted?”
“I mean, you can…I’m not generally inclined to tell other people’s business.”
“Fair. I wouldn’t either.”
“But…If it returns, maybe you could help her.” Avery thought for a minute.
“The women in her family have been cursed with multiple miscarriages before conception. She’s already had four, and she’s only thirty-two.
Apparently, they can’t carry a baby to full term unless they’ve gone through six miscarriages.
I’m confident it won’t happen again, but if it does, she may want a healer’s touch. ”
Ophelia’s instinct was to gasp loudly at the horror, but the striking woman was approaching the counter to check out, and she was forced to keep her composure.
After the woman departed with her items and hopefully a new outcome for her next pregnancy, an idea hit Ophelia so hard that she was shocked she hadn’t thought of it before.
It seemed so natural. She could treat here, at Prytania Botanica. If Avery let her, of course.
Ophelia turned to Avery once the woman left. “So I’m officially a Traiteur.”
A huge smile broke out across his face. “Well, it’s about damn time.”
“Is it? I feel like I just found out that I could even treat someone. I also just found out about, you know —” Ophelia looked around in the shop and lowered her voice “— magic.”
Avery chuckled and hugged Ophelia. “I wish I could have seen your face when your Mawmaw told you. I bet that was the shock of a lifetime for your sheltered ass.”
“I am not sheltered. I’ve lived in New York!” she exclaimed.
“Oh okayyy,” teased Avery. “Seriously, though, welcome to the other side.” He winked.
“Is it really like ‘the other side’? Have I been living in complete ignorance?”
“Nah. You know how, when you’re little and learn about sex, and then you realize all of these people in the world have had sex? Even your parents and aunties. And you’re shocked and horrified?”
She shuddered. “God, yes. That was not fun to find out.”
“Right. Well, this is similar, except not as gross. You kinda just start to realize that there’s this other unspoken thing out there, just living right below the surface of proper society.”
“That actually makes perfect sense.”
“Yeah. I feel more open about it because people here know about Voodoo. Now, most of them think it’s all fake n’ shit, but you get what I’m saying.
” Avery lowered his head closer to Ophelia and whispered, “But I have a friend on the West Bank who can commune with spirits. Obviously, she does not talk about it much.”
“Holy shit. That’s creepy and cool.”
Avery pulled away and examined her. “I’m proud of you, ya know? This is wonderful.”
Ophelia beamed. “It is. Yeah. So I wanted to ask you for a favor.”
“Oh boy. You cashin’ in already, huh?”
“Hush. Just listen. Can I treat people here? Like, in your office? It would require us sharing the space and adding in an examination table of sorts, but I want to help people like you do, like my grandmother did, and I think this place might be the way I do it.”
Avery smiled and clapped his hands together. “Girrlll,” he drawled. “Yes! Yes! Let’s do it.”
“Really?” squealed Ophelia. This issue had been plaguing her morning, noon, and night. It was pointless to have a gift like this and not use it.
“Abso-fucking-lutely. We’ve gotta get started like ASAP. We need to change up this office, and then we can get the word out to my connections.”
“Speaking of…how do you get the word out? It’s not like you advertise your services. Unless you do, and I don’t know.”
“It’s called word-of-mouth marketing, honey chile.”
Ophelia dramatically rolled her eyes. “Yes, Avery, I know what word-of-mouth marketing is,” she deadpanned. “But I want to know how you get the word out, like exactly how you do it without people thinking you need to be sent to a mental institution.”
“Honestly, it’s very easy since most of my friends are all up in this shit.
Tiffany, my friend who lives in the Bywater, runs a holistic healing shop and spreads the word about my rituals to her clients.
She also teaches restorative yoga at a studio over there and puts up little bulletin notes for me on their board.
I’m a part of the small business alliance here, and I’ve told the people who I trust in that community.
Hmm…who else? Well, people that come here, obviously.
Previous clients from my grandmother. And I just try to connect a lot with people in the magical community here.
Not everyone is out and vocal about their magic, but those who are know me and my talents. ”
“Interesting. Do I need to be out and vocal about my magic? I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for that. I haven’t even told my sisters or Jade about the magical piece of being a Traiteur.”
“No. I mean, you’ll have to tell some people in order to get clients. I tell everyone who I am and what I do, but I grew up like that. I don’t think you’ll have to take the same approach, unless you want to.”
“That’s a relief. I’m not ready yet. But thank you for this. This means so much to me. I’ll start gathering supplies and sourcing an exam table. I also want to practice a bit more with my Mawmaw and my friend Etienne before we pull the trigger on this.”
Avery nodded absently and then jerked his head up abruptly.
“Hold up. Etienne? That beefy hunk who’s friends with Luke?”
Ophelia smiled, knowing Avery ogled Etienne like everyone else. “The very one.”
“Damn. I figured he was magical, but I didn’t realize he was a Traiteur.”
“Yeah, he actually helped with my Passing, and now I’ve strong-armed him into helping me practice my treating skills.”
Avery lifted his right brow. “Hot.”
“Put that sassy brow back down, you whore. He has absolutely zero interest in me. Trust.”
“Men,” grumbled Avery.
Ophelia’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at it quickly. Etienne. As if just talking about him conjured his presence.
Etienne: Sure. I can do Wednesday night. Where do you want to meet?
Ophelia: Perfect. Let’s do my place.