Chapter 37
Ember
Put your foot in it Allegra why don’t you?
I desperately try and think through a catalogue of excuses as he stares right through me. We’d had a breakthrough after the week from hell, I finally plucked up the courage to tell him about my magic and he didn’t mind. He wasn’t afraid. Being the amazing person that he is, he accepted me for exactly who I am, chaotic powers and all. I immediately felt lighter, happier, like maybe we could make a good go of this. Maybe I could tell him how I felt and he’d feel the same, and we’d sing kumbayas and go off happily ever after into the sunset like Danny and Sandy at the end of Grease.
Who was I kidding.
I should have known that was too good to be true. I might have refrained from telling him about the luck spell in my confession, but how could I possibly tell him that? How could I say, ‘oh and by the way, everything good that has happened to you and enhanced your character over the past few months has all been a lie, all done by me, so anyways- , I just couldn’t. Trust Allegra to ring me at that exact moment and for my phone to betray me as she literally booms out the very thing I didn’t want him to know.
He coughs, still awaiting an answer. I don’t have one for him though, my mind goes blank and my voice goes dry. Although, maybe I don’t need to, as he starts doing the talking for me.
“So hold on a second, let me just get this straight,” he says clasping his hands together like a professor trying to explain a theory to his students. “You said that the way magic acts in your family is similar to that of manifestation, willing things to happen. You can basically influence the outcome of things with your magic just by willing it to do so?”
I nod, the guilt washing over my face.
“Does that mean then, that you can influence the outcome of other things too?”
The colour drains from his face as the realisation dawns.
“…Ember, can you influence good outcomes too? Like say, a company changing their mind on your application and giving you the job instead because of a ‘mix up,’ even though they initially declined it. Getting firsts in every assignment, even though you royally messed up most formative proposals. Suddenly becoming an expert in a presentation even though your anxiety was through the roof for months prior and you’re terrified of public speaking? Being the 100th lucky customer at a Christmas market and getting the exact art piece you wanted for free, winning an ￡1000 scratch card in a random gust of wind? Need I say more?” His face looks like thunder.
The taste of bile rises in my throat. Guess it’s time to put on my big girl pants and face the music. Somehow, I only manage to mutter a squeaky, “yes.” I can’t bear the look of defeat on his face right now or the frown etched deep into his forehead. He breathes out a deep sigh before opening his mouth again to respond.
“You let me tell my parents. You actually let me sit there with a stupid fucking grin on my face and tell them how great my life was going, and you know what’s even worse? You let me go to a stupid lunch with them to ‘celebrate.’ You actually sat there and let them be proud of me, knowing it was all nothing but a lie,” he spits out accusingly, so far removed from the guy I’ve grown to know.
The defence quickly reaps its head and I muster the courage to argue my case. “I was trying to help you, Arthur. I knew how much getting those grades meant to you, I knew how badly you wanted to get over the anxiety and smash that presentation. I knew how much you wanted a break from it all, to be happy and free. I knew you couldn’t have done it on your own. You just needed a push, so I made it happen.”
He lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, so it’s okay then because you were the one pulling the strings? No. You don’t get to make that decision forme. You ‘made it happen’? Get over yourself Ember. You don’t just get to snap your fingers and decide that my anxiety is gone, the real world doesn’t work like that.”
The tension rises like a tidal wave and I can feel the frustration taking a hold of me. “You don’t get it; I know how much you struggle. I mean, 5 months ago, you wouldn’t have even left your flat without Sam holding your hand. You barely spoke, you were always so afraid. I don’t want that for you, you’re smart, your funny, you have so much to offer the world, but you get in your own way!,” I squeal, not quite realising the repercussions of what I’d just said.
“Wow”, he mutters through a defeated snort. “You sound just like my dad.” In that moment, he looks dumbstruck, he doesn’t need to say anything for me to know that the anger is bubbling from the pit of his stomach through to his chest. “How am I supposed to trust anything you say now when you’ve been lying to my face this whole time?”
I sigh deeply, “I wasn’t lying! I just…withheld the truth,” acknowledging how pathetic I sounded.
“It’s the same thing,” he says, his tone clipped.
I edge closer to him and try to meet his gaze, “Look, everything I did was to try and help you. That was it. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn’t need your help? Maybe I could have worked on myself on my own?”
I guffaw, “you never gave yourself a fighting chance. Like I said, I just didn’t want you to get in your own way.”
He inhales slowly, puffing out the exhausted air before replying, “the only person getting in my way right now, is you. I think I should go.”
I follow after him as he opens my bedroom door and heads into the corridor, not looking back. “Arthur, you know we need to talk about th-,” and perhaps making the bravest choice he’s ever made, not giving me the chance to argue any further, he shuts the door behind him, and leaves.