Me: Hey! We still on for tonight?
I stare at the phone for a moment, hoping he’ll start typing. He doesn’t, and I put my phone on my lap. An hour passes and I still haven’t heard from him, making me feel like I’m getting stood up and ghosted. Why though? He called me Saturday night just to talk, and he texted me last night telling me he was looking forward to seeing me today.
It can’t be another cruel joke, and I hate that my mind goes there. Leslie was right: I’m a catch. A catch who’s slightly neurotic and comes across as crazy more times than not thanks to being a medium. I wouldn’t call myself a ten, but I’m at least a solid seven, maybe even an eight on a good day.
I check my phone again, mentally rolling my eyes at myself. I’d know if Ethan texted or called. The phone is on my freaking lap, for crying out loud. Sighing, I text Laney.
Me: Ethan hasn’t called, so I’m guessing we’re not going out for dinner :-/
Laney: Oh no! I’m so sorry. Need me to come over so we can talk shit about him?
Me: Nah, that’s okay. Thanks, though. I’m going to take Hunter for a run.
Laney: If you change your mind, let me know. I just got some of that chocolate wine and I can’t drink the whole bottle by myself.
I smile and send her a heart emoji. I might not have the best luck with men, but my best friend is really the best. I stand up with the intention of changing into athletic clothes so I can go for that run but hesitate after one step. If Ethan does call, I don’t want to be sweaty.
“It shouldn’t matter,” I tell myself. He said he’d call this afternoon so we could make plans. It’s inconsiderate at this point, right? “Dammit. I’d still go out with him,” I admit to Hunter, and get the Book of Shadows from my closet. I take it into the living room and sit cross-legged on the couch, opening the book to a random page, which happens to be the section on telekinesis.
I run my fingers over the yellowed page and spot a piece of a broken bay leaf stuck in the binding. Using my fingernail, I dig it out and I’m suddenly hit with the memory of sitting in Aunt Estelle’s living room. The shelves are full of books, jars of herbs, and various gemstones.
“Very good, Anora,” someone says, and I look up from a bowl of water, smiling. A bay leaf spins in fast circles inside the bowl, and the same redheaded woman is next to me. Her face is all fuzzy again, like it’s been wiped from my memory. But I know it’s her.
It’s Aunt Estelle, and she was teaching me witchcraft.
Chapter Twelve
Hands trembling slightly, I put the tiny piece of the bay leaf down and grab my phone and call my brother.
“Hey, Annie,” he answers.
“Hey, are you home?”
“No, I’m just now leaving the office. Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure. Want to come over? I’ll order a pizza.”
“Yeah,” he says with no hesitation, and I know I’ve officially freaked him out. “I’ll be there in twenty. I like pepperoni pizza.”
“I know. Garlic breadsticks too?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll order now. Thanks, Har.” I’m not going to dinner tonight anyway, though I’m almost hoping I get the pizza ordered, Harrison shows up, and then Ethan calls. I’ll decline his call with a smug smile…okay, I probably won’t, but only because I want to see what lame excuse he’s going to give for blowing me off.
He doesn’t call, though, and Harrison comes through the door just about twenty minutes later.
“I need you to tell me everything you remember about staying with Aunt Estelle when we were kids,” I say before he even takes his shoes off.
“Hello to you too.” He waits until Hunter calms down to join me in the living room.
“I don’t remember any of it, Har. I thought going back would jog my memory over the weekend, but it didn’t.”
“You’re serious?” he asks and comes into the living room, sitting on a gray armchair next to the couch.
“Yes,” I say and look up at my brother, pleading for him to believe me. “It’s like my memories are just…just gone. You said we went to church with Aunt Estelle and then went out to breakfast.”
“We did.”
“I remember going to church with Nana and Pop and then going to a café that overlooked Lake Michigan. I remember it in detail.” I close my eyes as I think back. “It was your classic small-town diner, with red pleather seats and fake marble tables-tops. You walked in right in the center of the restaurant, and there was a long counter you could sit at and watch the cooks prepare your food. To the right of the door was one of those old-fashioned horses. You know, the kind that cost a dime to ride and it basically rocked back and forth. And we’d always sit at a booth in the back because there was a painting of constellations that Nana liked. She said an old boyfriend painted it for her.”