In the parking lot when my civic comes into view, I once again wonder how much longer she’s going to last. Oh, well there's an item to put on my list of wishes. This baby is on her last leg, but she’s paid off and I need her to last for another year at least. Or maybe not if the universe has other plans, I think in a slightly cynical manner. Knowing compliments go a long way, I murmur them to my little car as I put the key in the ignition, begging her to stick around a bit longer.
Before long, I’m pulling into the driveway of my little house, my pride and joy. I just wish I owned it and could truly call it mine. It’s perfect. I knew the moment I saw it that I would make it my home. My landlord keeps promising to eventually sell it to me or do a rent to own kind of thing. I’m not clear on why she hasn’t done it yet, but I hope I’m wearing her down. I should probably call her again and have a chat. The squeaky wheel gets the cheese. Or is it the squeaky mouse gets the cheese? Well whatever – I know what I mean.
Putting my keys and purse on the table by the door, I stand for a moment thinking about the few things I need to get done. I begin with putting the dishes away from the dishwasher, then strip the sheets from my bed and throw them in the washer. I dust, vacuum, finish folding my last load of laundry, and when that’s all done, evening has set in and I realize I’m starving. I don’t feel like cooking a meal, it’s a pain in the ass to just cook for one sometimes, so I elect to throw a frozen dinner, chicken and rice, into the microwave. When it’s done, I settle on the couch and begin flipping through the channels on the TV. I’m barely seeing what’s in front of me because my mind won’t quit turning about this list of wishes thing that Mischa told me about.
I inhale my dinner and then with a sigh, grab paper and a pen and head outside. I sit down at the little bistro table and chair set on my back patio and look up into the sky, gasping softly when I take in the moon. The moon is shining so brightly tonight, it’s all you can see. The stars are hiding, almost as if they know they can’t compete with the moon and won't bother trying. The night feels still, like the moon has cast a web of silence all around me. I can’t help but wonder how many other people are staring up at its beauty right now, just as I am. How many are missing someone tonight, thinking about life, or actually making wishes? At the same time, I feel like the moon is here as a gift just for me, and I revel in the glow I feel kissing my face. Funny how something can make you feel both significant and insignificant at the same time.
I take a deep breath, and return my focus to the task at hand. I rock from side to side a bit trying to get more comfortable in my chair, and shake my arms and do neck circles for good measure. I close my eyes and think about what I want just like Mischa told me to. I briefly wonder if I should hum really low or chant something or maybe sit in a yoga pose, but I discard them all and surprisingly, things that I want in my life start coming to mind. I start writing them down, one after the other. It doesn’t matter how silly, materialistic or unrealistic they are, I write them all.
Before I know it, I have a whole page full of wishes. I go back through and read each one, making adjustments here and there. I nod my head when I get to the end. I close my eyes and reflect on them once again like Mischa instructed, but when my mind starts wandering to things like what color I should paint my toe nails and how giraffes have really long necks, I decide I’ve reflected enough.
I step back inside and root through my kitchen junk drawer for my butane lighter, flick it, but find it lacking in fluid and not working so scrounge for the matches I keep stashed there. I eventually find them and then walk back outside. Caught up in the moment, I decide to go through my list one more time and whisper each line to myself with feeling. Then, I fold the list into squares, light a match and set it on fire. I stare at the flame, mesmerized by it. “Ow! Shit! Motherfucker!” I drop it on the glass table after it burns my fingers and watch the paper curl in on itself as it burns into nothing but ash. A steady white swirl of smoke trails into the air as if it’s taking my wishes to the sky. When the last orange ember fades, I wait a few moments before scooping the ashes off of the table and into the palm of my hand. I look at them for a moment and then lift them to my mouth and blow. At the same time I blow, a gentle breeze picks up out of nowhere, captures the remnants of my wishes and sends them flying. I can’t help but give a small smile at the magical feeling of it all.
“Well there you go Mischa, I did it,” I state, as if she can hear me. She would be happy and even perhaps, proud of me now. Besides… what’s the worst that can happen?
Excerpt from
Rain Check
by Gypsy Rae Choszer
Chapter One
Of every possible scenario I could have imagined about finally meeting my birth mother, this was nowhere on the list. Walking away, I take one last glance behind me at the wooden sign hanging above Marianna’s shop, The Crystal Moon. She’s standing at the door waving. Her dark hair hangs free, cascading over her shoulders, a feather woven into a braid on one side.
I really need to sit down and figure out exactly what I just got myself into. Luckily the house I am staying at is only a few blocks away. Thanks to the magic of Craigslist and just a few clicks of my mouse, I was able to find a great place to rent by the week. I’ve only been there one week, but I feel right at home. I have my own room upstairs with a private bathroom. Jonah, the owner, is an artist who rents it out to people looking for an alternative to hotels when they visit Portland.
Jonah and I hit it off almost immediately. The first night I stayed at his house he came home after a bad date armed with a pint of double fudge ice cream and a bottle of scotch.
“I’m done dating. I am swearing off men forever!” Jonah walks into the kitchen and plops dramatically into the seat next to me, eyeing the cup of tea I just finished pouring.
“No.” He gestures to the tea. “Nope. That is not happening right now. I have scotch and I refuse to drink it alone.”
“I take it your date didn’t go so well?” I say as I dump my tea into the sink. If he’s offering me the good stuff, who am I to refuse?
“He was one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen, Avery. He was a freaking god until he opened his mouth. After that he was just a dick, and not the good kind either.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a good kind of dick. At least as far as personality goes.” I flash him a little smile.
“It probably only happens on TV,” Jonah sighs and leans his chair backwards, reaching into a drawer to pull out two spoons.
“Ah. The elusive douchebag with a heart of gold,” I giggle.
“Exactly.” He pulls the lid off the ice cream, digs out a spoonful, and hands it to me. “Tell me you like chocolate.”
“It’s pretty much my favorite,” I assure him. “As far as I’m concerned it is a necessary recovery food after every bad date.”
He fills his own spoon and pops it in his mouth while giving me a thoughtful look. “I think I like you, Avery. I don’t share my bad date food with just anyone.”
Several hours later, we had told each other all of our worst date stories and shared our most embarrassing moments. I told him about Marianna and why I was in Portland. He decided to really only swear off men for a week, and together we polished off the whole container of ice cream as well as enough scotch to make us both numb and happy.
And now it’s my turn to tell Jonah about my crappy encounter.
“I’m a crazy person. I have lost my freaking mind,” I announce loudly as I walk into the shared kitchen of the old Victorian styled house.
Jonah looks at me with his eyebrows raised and pats the seat next to him at the table. “So, I’m guessing you finally met her? Come sit down, I’ll pour you some tea and then you’re going to tell me what happened.”
I drop myself down into the seat and bury my head in my arms. “Jonah. It was bad. So soooo bad. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I peek up at him as he sets a mug in front of me on the table.
“It’s a new blend I picked up this morning.” He inclines his head towards the mug and nudges it closer to me, waiting while I take a sip. “Now then, did you meet her?”
I sit back in my seat and look up at the ceiling. The events of this afternoon come rushing back at me and for a moment, my heart stutters and I feel slightly off balance. “Yes?” It comes out like a question. I take a deep breath and start again. “Yes, I met her.”
“What did she say?”
“Well. I didn’t exactly tell her.” I wince at the memory of our meeting.
“So, what exactly did you tell her then?”
“I really was planning to tell her who I am… but when I spoke, instead of saying ‘Hi, my name is Avery, I am the daughter you gave up for adoption twenty-one years ago’, I said something more along the lines of ‘Are you hiring?’” I glance back at Jonah, who meets my eyes with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “She wants me to come back tomorrow for an interview.”
His shoulders quake in silent laughter as he shakes his head back and forth. “Okay, I agree. You are a crazy person,” he laughs. “But you are the most entertaining crazy person I have ever met, so there’s that.”
“Jonah! This is serious! I don’t think you realize the gravity of the situation. My birth mother wants to interview me for a job tomorrow. But she doesn’t know who I am. And also, she owns a magic shop! Like I know anything about working in a magic shop!”
“It’s not a magic shop. It’s a metaphysical shop; there’s a difference, I think.” He stops for a moment, and then adds, “Yes, there is definitely a difference. Are you going?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know,” I sigh and take another sip. “It really doesn’t make any sense. I only planned to be in Portland for two, maybe three weeks tops. Maybe I should go for the interview and just tell her then.”
“Yeah. You should most definitely tell her who you are.” Jonah scoots his chair closer to mine. “But you could stay longer if you wanted. I kinda like having you around. You’re a lot more fun than the other people who usually want to stay here.” He smiles. “I mean, after you tell her of course.”
I groan. “I can’t believe I did this. I am the only person I know who would do something like this.”
“That’s just another reason you should consider staying. I need excitement in my life and you do not fail to provide. I bet it’s genetic. Your birth mother does tarot readings and stuff with crystals, she sounds entertaining too. I can see this arrangement really working out to my advantage.” I raise my eyebrows at him and he winks. “I’m kidding. Mostly. What was she like?”
I sit back in my chair to think, remembering her face and the way she carried herself. “She’s short, like me. But her hair is dark, almost black. And wild. She was wearing all these beaded bracelets and no shoes. She smelled sweet and earthy, like some kind of incense maybe. I don’t really look like her. Maybe my eyes? Hers are darker though,” I shrug. “She seemed really nice I guess. She was a little intense, but that could’ve been my nerves.”
“What time are you meeting her tomorrow? Do you want to get some coffee after? There’s that place, Rush, right up the block from her shop. Their coffee’s not bad.”
“Sure, sounds good. I’m meeting her at 10, so maybe around 11? I can entertain you with more of my misadventures.” I drain the last of my tea and stand. “I’m going upstairs to shower.”
“Okay, I’m heading out later tonight with some friends if you want to come with us. First drinks on me.”
“I don’t know, I’m pretty tired after today.” Just saying it brings out a yawn that I hide behind my hand.
“The cure for what ails you is fun. Fun and booze. Fun, booze, and cheese fries. Just come, I promise we won’t stay out late.” He gives me his best puppy dog eyes.
“Fine. But only because I want cheese fries,” I smirk. “I’ll go shower and get ready.”
I place my mug in the sink and walk around the corner to the stairs that lead up to my room.
My room is at the top of the stairs. It’s large enough for a beautiful queen sized sleigh bed in a dark cherry finish with matching bedside tables and a dresser. There is also a separate area in the room with bookshelves and a desk. To the right of the desk are two doors, one that leads to the bathroom and the other into the closet.
I drop my purse on the desk and walk to the bathroom, one of my favorite parts about staying in Jonah’s house. It is the perfect mixture of old and new. The claw foot tub and pedestal sink fit right in with the era of the house, but the enclosed steam shower gives it just the right touch of modern flair. I let my clothes fall to the floor and press a few buttons on the digital touch screen for the steam shower before I step inside.
As steam begins to fill the space, I sit back on the tiled seat built into the corner of the stall. The heat and moisture build in the air and the tension of the day begins to melt from my muscles. If I were to sit here long enough, I might completely forget all my worries. Almost.
Jonah is probably right, the answer to my problems, at least for tonight is to get out and have a little fun. I can tackle everything with my birth mother, Marianna, tomorrow. Tonight, I will relax and have a good time. Who says that coming to Portland has to be all serious business?
I feel some of my worry lift from my shoulders and sigh with a smile.
Table of Contents