Broomstick, page 5
It’s raining. But it’s figurative rain, you know, water dripping inside my brain. It’s not actually raining. Outside, on the fields of the cemetery, it’s hot and muggy. It’s a lovely day in Atlanta. The sky is a beautiful cerulean blue. The bluebirds are singing. It’s not raining at all. Only in my heart. In my chest. There it feels tight and constricted, and it kind of weighs me down as I walk beside the coffin. Inside is where the tears are. Inside there’s this fog, shrouding all the pretty birds and lovely trees, and the scene looks just like those funerals in the movies.
But water actually does drip down my face. Sweat is dripping down my forehead.
I have on a lovely black dress. It once belonged to Mother. I liked it even before she died.
I don’t want to mourn. Just like I don’t want to cry.
The thing is, I have to get back to school.
The ceremony is really short. My brother and I say a lovely eulogy. He wrote it, and I nervously intone a couple of sentences from a sheet of paper I’m holding with a shaky hand.
Then it’s over. I get in my cheap twenty-year-old Honda Accord and drive the one hundred miles back to Hawthorne University.
You see, Mom was dying anyway. And I think everyone saw it coming.
I could be sad. I see a bumper sticker and it says CRY. That finally makes me cry a little on my drive back to Hawthorne.
I can’t concentrate in class. I study. I’m really smart, you know. I always get good grades. But I can’t drop the images of the hot and sweaty funeral from my mind. Such a lovely day. Such a fucked-up lovely day. Such an awful feeling. I still feel it. That tightness. I want it to leave me, but it won’t.
In Alondra’s metaphysical history class, I take an exam on the various torture techniques utilized throughout the Middle Ages. I know I’m gonna get an A, because I studied all the required reading and even the optional materials before I left for the weekend.
5
After Class
“I need a week off from school, Dr. Johansen.”
Alondra is stuffing a MacBook laptop and a folder full of papers into her black bag. She seems in a real pissy mood.
“All right, Cadence,” she says with disinterest.
We’re at the front of the lecture hall, and all the students are leaving. I know Maddie is waiting for me outside.
Alondra has been aloof over the last few weeks. She used to smile at me a lot. Now it seems she doesn’t want to give me the time of day. Of course I didn’t sign up for her research freak show. Maddie did. Maybe that’s it?
“You did well on the test, Cadence.” Alondra stuffs a laser pointer into her bag.
“Thanks. I thought the witch hunts were interesting. Particularly the method of judging the witches. It seems so stupid.”
“It proves how stupid men are,” Alondra says with a shrug and a faint smile.
“Will we be getting our papers back soon, Dr. Johansen?”
“Excuse me, Cadence, but I really have to go,” she says rudely, practically hitting my shoulder with her bag. “If you need a week off, you can just let Administration know. You needn’t tell me.”
“I know, but my mother died, Alondra.”
I don’t know why I said it. I tried to avoid saying it. Then I just said it.
Alondra stops in her tracks for a moment. I watch her pale hand rest on the podium, and she nods and cocks her head back. “How terrible. I’m sure you were close, right?”
And that’s just as awkward.
“She was like my mother.” It was meant as a joke, but it sounds like I’m mocking my teacher. I chuckle stupidly but Alondra doesn’t laugh. She looks down. She seems genuinely upset.
“I’m sorry for you,” she says.
I feel that tightness again. Somehow, it seems even worse in front of her.
“That’s why I need time. I need to, you know, mourn, I guess.”
Isn’t that what people do? How should I know? My granddad died when I was four. I never knew him. That’s all I knew about death—until Mom. People need time—right?—to feel shitty and sad.
Dr. Johansen turns around with a sad smile. She lays down her heavy bag for a moment.
“I’m so sorry for you, Cadence.”
A tear runs down my cheek. I don’t know why. I haven’t cried at all since I saw that stupid bumper sticker but, somehow, for someone to acknowledge me makes me feel awful. Particularly Alondra, whose sweet smile always puts me at ease. Her kindness hurts.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again. “You know, I really hoped I could work more closely with you. You’re at the top of your class. That was the other reason you were invited for dinner.”
“I thought it was because I’m an atheist,” I say with a stupid grin. I’m still trying to be funny, but it’s even more awkward now. I’m brushing tears from my cheek.
“Are you an atheist?” she says, surprised. I don’t know why it surprises her. “That’s not the profile I was looking for.”
“I think I am.”
“I don’t think you’re an atheist, Cadence… I’m so sorry to hear about your mother.” She looks down for a moment; then she looks deeply into my eyes and puts a hand on my shoulder. “It is this pain that I study. It’s this thing that we all turn from: pain. But it’s an energy, just like joy, that we carry with us all our lives. I research nature’s energy. Pain and pleasure. Even pain is a part of nature. But your ghosts are always so deep…” She looks down for a moment; then she nods. “Of course, of course you can have a week…but I can’t speak for your other professors. You should let the provost know.”
“I already have.”
“That’s good.”
Alondra gently raises my chin and smiles. Her green eyes seem to pierce right through my soul. Then she brushes her hand along my hair like…like my mother. This reminder almost puts me over the edge.
“Please, don’t worry about a thing. If you’d like, it would please me if you can come again to my house this Friday. I know you haven’t signed up, but you can come for our initiation meeting. I want to make an exception for you. I think you will find it’s not as scary as you might have believed. And our coven always honors those who have recently passed. I think it will help you through this. I’d really like to do this for you, Cadence.”
“I’ll see.”
“Come if you wish. Anyway, I’m so fortunate to have someone as bright as you in class, whatever you decide.”
“Thanks, Dr. Johansen,” I reply with a smile. She’s so nice.
“Please. Call me Alondra.”
6
The Ceremony
I take Alondra up on her offer and ride back to her house alone, in my beat-up Honda, on Friday night. I’m very late. I made a tactful decision earlier not to tell Maddie I was coming. I didn’t want her to know. We’ve made up since the party—I can’t stay mad at Maddie for long—but I warned her never to mention the séance again.
Anyway, I’m crossing Alondra’s gorgeous manicured front lawn, meandering along the dirt path to the door. It’s a drab, gloomy day, and there’s not much visibility. Looking back, I can’t even make out my car. It’s too foggy. In front of me the fog seems to amplify the yellow light coming from Alondra’s old mansion. I shiver in my thin black cotton sweater; I forgot my coat at the dorm. Winter is coming. Soon the trees will turn their lovely red and yellow autumn colors to brown and it will be cold.
I knock on her door. She has a large antique metal knocker. I smile at its old-fashioned look. It’s very Alondra.
Then I wait. I wait a long time, staring out at the trees under the mist.
“Hey, Cadence.” It’s Bryce. Normally I’d be shy, but I’m not in the mood for shyness.
“Hi, Bryce.”
He gives me a gentle hug. “I heard about your mom,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
“She’s dead.”
He loses his smile for a moment.
Well, she is dead, so get over it. Is dwelling on it going to make things better?
He places his hand gently on my shoulder. I think he would have preferred to hold my hand, but he’s cautious. Then, just as he did many weeks ago, he walks beside me down Alondra’s gorgeous hall. I expect to head straight to the kitchen like last time, but we don’t. Instead we head into a room that looks like a den, with a sliding glass door.
I’m admiring her home. It’s so chic. As much as she adores history, the interior is ultramodern. As Bryce works the lock to the glass door, I look at the stonemasonry on the chimney. Everything is in sharp angles and very chic. The white leather sofas surround a soft, furry white carpet with white wood around its perimeter. A flat-screen TV is mounted to one of the walls, which are painted light coffee-brown. How can she afford all this stuff?
Bryce finally yanks open the sliding door. “I told her she should have left it open. It keeps jamming. Anyway, come on, we’re waiting for you.”
Waiting for me?
Everyone is gathered around a blazing bonfire, the height of a person, in the center of Alondra’s huge backyard. It’s in a large open field of wild grass, like that surrounding the Billington House, with giant trees. Unlike the front yard, none of her backyard is manicured. In fact, it blends in with the surrounding forest.
Eleven people are gathered around the flames, surrounded by a circle of large white stones. They’re all wearing these weird black hooded cloaks, like the clothes ancient druids wore. Alondra’s hood is down, and her long black hair is hanging over it. Beside Alondra is my friend Maddie. I can’t make out Maddie’s face under her cloak, but I recognize her pants underneath. Dr. Reardon is there. He’s wearing a button-down and slacks. His cloak is over his face, but I recognize him from his old-person clothes. Then I recognize Mira and a shy girl, Hannah, who I met at Alondra’s party.
Bryce and I approach the circle around the fire and, for some reason, the walk seems to take a long time. It’s like everything is in slow motion. As we draw closer, I realize they’re all holding hands and chanting quietly. It’s not English.
“They’re waiting for you,” Bryce repeats. “Don’t be afraid.”
I look up into his eyes. He smiles sweetly. Then his hand tightens over mine.
I’m not afraid. I’d never be afraid in those hands.
All right, I’m a little afraid. But the tightness in my chest has been lifted. Now I feel butterflies rather than dread, but I’m still nervous. What is this freak club all about? I’m thinking of walking out.
“Cadence, you made it.” Alondra gets up. She has that infamous smile of hers. “We built this fire for you. Please, sit.”
She looks weird. Under her cloak, her pants are old-fashioned. It looks like she found them in the basement of the Billington home. And she has on really thick black makeup. Her mascara’s like Mira’s everyday dark makeup.
I sit down next to Bryce.
We’re all sitting in cheap white plastic chairs around Alondra’s bonfire. The odd thing that strikes me—aside from my professor’s attire, and everything else—is the fire. There’s no outdoor pit. Just a pile of wood thrown down on her lawn and ignited into a big conflagration. That’s weird. Well, the whole thing is weird.
“Everyone knows what’s happened to your mother, Cadence,” says Alondra. She looks creepy, but with her gentle smile, it seems okay. She sits back down. Her face turns grave, and her speech is slow and measured. “I would like to perform a ceremony in her honor. If you let us, it might ease some of your pain. But more importantly, it will benefit your mother. It’s up to you. If, at any time, you feel uncomfortable, we can stop. The coven is just happy to have the opportunity to be with you tonight. And…it is a special night because we are initiating Hannah, Tammy, and your friend Madison.”
“Okay,” I say. But I don’t know if it’s okay. And Alondra pauses for a moment to check if I’m sure. I don’t say anything else. I just sit there watching everybody stare at me.
“We are here to pray for you,” Alondra says with another comforting grin. “It is our hope that your mother passes swiftly to the higher realm. I, and many of the others here, believe the spirit moves to the Summerland. Then the soul moves on to inhabit another body in another place. With this ceremony, we can help her on her journey. Without our efforts, sometimes the soul can get stuck. Then it can become a ghost.”
“Like Abigail,” Maddie says.
“No,” Alondra says with a chuckle. Then she turns grave. “This is quite serious, Madison. I’m not talking ghost stories.”
“Okay,” Maddie says. Then she gives me a comforting smile. It’s a pitying smile, and knowing my BFF so well, it makes me a little sad.
Alondra reaches under her plastic chair and picks up a photograph and a candle. “We have this memorial candle. And your friend Maddie brought me a picture of your mother. We’d like to light the candle in memory of her, if you will permit us.”
“Sure. All right.” I’m game. Why the hell not?
I turn to Maddie. She surprises me. I expected to see her whimsical, fun face, but she’s very serious.
“Katie,” Alondra says to me, calling me by my nickname. “If you can hold hands, we will all begin.”
I laugh. No one else does. “All right, but…I really don’t believe in any of this,” I say. “But thanks for all your trouble.”
“It doesn’t matter if you believe, Cadence,” Bryce says. He grabs my hand. “What matters is that you are here. And we are here for you.”
“Exactly, Bryce,” says Alondra.
My left hand is holding Maddie’s, and my right is holding my handsome TA’s. I look at Alondra again and she nods, trying to comfort me, and closes her eyes. She closes them tightly, just like Mira did. Then I look over at Mira. The girl’s copying Alondra, and I suddenly realize how her mannerisms seem to mimic my professor’s. Then I think about the Ouija board, and for a moment I get a little upset and unnerved. I confronted Maddie about the incident, and she swears that she never told anyone my mother’s name.
Everyone bows their heads down. I don’t. I just gaze at the flickering flames.
I like the touch of my best friend’s and boyfriend’s hands. Their closeness is comforting. I also like that all these people are doing whatever they’re doing for me. But I still feel uneasy.
Then Dr. Reardon speaks. I had forgotten all about him. “We who have been taught to follow a false god, taught to love all people, even those who hurt us, to listen to fools, to follow those who are misaligned or stupid, to live in guilt over our pleasures and live in pain—you who sit in this circle need do this no longer. None of us in the circle need do this any longer. We are protected, just as the darkness shades light. By Baphomet, the holy one. Through darkness roams the hunter. Through the hunter comes the sacrifice. We follow truth and believe in shadows, under the embrace of Gaia, that shall guide us toward our salvation.”
“Atman,” says Alondra.
“Atman,” say the others.
“And for Emily.” Dr. Reardon looks at me. I shudder. His goatee is shadowed by the dancing flames. He looks almost like a demon. “Allow her to pass over. Allow Cadence’s mother to pass over to the Summerland and then beyond. Let her not remain as a ghost or vapor. Let her move on to her next life.”
“Atman,” says Alondra.
“Atman,” say the others.
“So eloquently said,” Alondra says, addressing Dr. Reardon.
I look up at the moon. The clouds have dispersed, and I can even see glimpses of stars. If the fog completely lifts, it will be a beautiful night. With the fire, it’s the perfect temperature. It warms me and I think about removing my black sweater, but I’m reminded of Mira. I think that any such move will break the weird spell surrounding me, so I do nothing. I sit quietly. Then I look around the fire.
The others begin to raise their hands, and some of them say similar words. Many of their speeches are cloaked in this weird quasireligious shit. I’m not sure what they’re referring to. Alondra seems to understand. Hope, one of the older initiates from last year—she stayed, just like Mira—recites a long dirge in a strange language. As she speaks, everyone looks down as if in prayer. Everyone except Alondra. Alondra is staring at me. And when I see her, she nods reassuringly.
I look into the fire. The red and yellow dances and the wood crackles.
Alondra rises. She lifts up her hands to the sky and gazes at the stars. All the fog has lifted. Then Alondra stands before us, addressing us, like she would do in class. Her smile has left her. Everyone opens their eyes, and Bryce and Maddie let go of my hands.
“We are here,” Alondra says, “to mourn the passing of Cadence Hawthorne’s mother, Emily. We know that her passing was timely. I thank the stars for that. Emily suffered terribly the last years of her life with a debilitating disease. No one should suffer pain. We, here in the circle, are here for the pleasure given to us by the earth. Emily’s ailments caused her problems with vision and hearing. She couldn’t walk. Because she couldn’t see, she even suffered a terrible fall. She finally succumbed to a heart attack. We mourn the death of Cadence’s mother, for we know how it has affected our sister Cadence so terribly. And we know how that love, though the bond may not ever be truly severed by death—the greatest illusion—has disturbed Cadence. Please take Emily and have her pass to a happier plane.”
“Atman,” says Professor Reardon.
“Atman,” say the others in unison.
Alondra walks over to me and hands me the candle.
“Cadence,” she says, smiling again, “can you light your candle by the fire, please? After you light it, take it back home with you. Let it stay lit as long as it will. Then one day it will burn out. If you wish, you may light it again whenever you feel pain over the loss of your mother. Know that she loved you and that the light from this candle not only represents her, but is her. It’s the energy of her in you that shall never burn out. It resides within you, and unlike fire in the physical realm, it will never die. Ultimately, you control where and when such energy will manifest itself. Her love now resides in you and always will. The power of her flame lies in your soul. When you discover that light within, through love and hate, through black and white magic, you shall finally be reborn in full wisdom.”
