"Magic Spells"

It’s over two hours since Bea Krantz trudged her clubbed feet out of our apartment and bid goodnight to mom and Vinny. Over two hours and they are still in the kitchen, murmuring away.


“I think they’re boyfriend and girlfriend now. I think this makes it official,” Jack pipes into the darkness. “Dad sent him you know.”


“Don’t be an idiot.” I finger the edges of my Disney card. It is my Linus blanket now.


“He’s good for her, you know. I can just tell about these things. He’s really good for her.” Jack yanks the Addams Family curtain open. It is not enough for the midget to share his own thoughts; he needs to know what the wheels in my head are doing.


“Yeah, well let’s see if she’s good for him.”


“Why do you hate mom?”


“How can you love her?” We are two sides of a hearted coin.


“You need to let things go Amelia, just let things go. Mom never wanted dad to die. It was a crazy time. After she saw him, well, she was just trying to—I mean, she had to make a quick decision, it wasn’t like she wanted to—”


“Just shut up and go to sleep!!” My forehead pulses and the card feels sticky against my skin. We could not go there. Not now when there are the sounds of our mother and Vinny laughing and exchanging intimate conversation, not so close to sleep time. The horrible truth of what our mother did needed to stay in the darkest part of my brain, like a Jack-in-the-box a child doesn’t play with for fear of the unexpected ‘pop.’ If I just ignored the dark part, then I’d be okay. Then I could stop being so angry, and maybe even forget what she did.


I yank the curtain shut between us. Jack doesn’t stop me. He is already getting himself comfortable under his Star War’s blanket. There is no dark spot in his brain. There is only our mother’s tape recorded version of what happened circuiting through his young mind, and it brings him to a world of deep breathing and unconsciousness within minutes.


I lie awake, listening to their dialogue grow more and more sparse, and then the sound of soft kisses outside our bedroom door, wondering what magic spells our mother was casting on poor Mr. McGee.