“Eight?”
His smile turns crooked, and a small but deep scar near a faint dimple catches my eye. “My dad’s always worked at a body shop. I grew up around cars.” He pulls into a parking space and turns off the engine.
“I still don’t know how to parallel park,” I tell him, hopping out of my seat.
“You don’t know how to parallel park, and they gave you your license?” he sounds outraged.
“Passed with flying colors,” I tell him.
“How?”
I flip him off. “Because I’m an awesome driver.”
“That possibility was out of the question the moment you said you couldn’t parallel park.”
“Perfect record,” I tell him. “Now, let’s go find this lady who cursed you. Maybe she can bestow a curse on me that teaches me how to parallel park.”
“Oh, now you’re full of jokes?”
I glance over my shoulder as he pulls his crutches from the back seat, his features neatly aligned with a fresh smirk. I turn toward the sidewalk, checking out the buildings. We’re in an older section of town, the buildings all brick, adorned with signs that stick out because many are too narrow to be posted across the front.
Arlo points at a building near the end with a deep purple curtain shadowing the window. “That’s it.”
“Well, let’s see what she has to say.”
I slow my typically fast pace to walk beside Arlo, the sound of the busy street preventing the need for small talk, which is good because I’m focusing all my energy on what to say to a person who may have the ability to curse someone.
She can’t curse anyone.
This isn’t possible.
Cursing people is a thing of fiction—something seen in movies and fantasy novels and make-believe. Arlo is simply displacing blame because he’s focused on the bad things that are occurring in his life right now, likely because they’re easier to focus on while injured.
It’s not possible to curse people, right?
Goosebumps course up my arm and down my neck, causing me to shiver, and though I try to lie and tell myself it’s the chilly temperatures that have held on with icy fingers as we inch near spring, this feels comparable to playing Bloody Mary, Candyman, or messing with a Ouija board. I didn’t like them then, and I certainly don’t prefer this adult version.
We come to a stop outside of the shop. The door is old, the black paint chipping around the six panes of brittle glass concealed by purple curtains that hang inside. A gold handle is stamped below more heavily worn paint. The sign hanging on the door says ‘Open, Please Knock for Service’ and damn, more goosebumps.
“Do we knock?” I ask, my voice quiet, likely revealing my discomfort.
Arlo swallows, the column of his throat rising as he raises a fist and knocks. “She’s probably busy eating the hearts of bats.”
I shoot him a glare. “Shhhh.”
“What? She can’t hear me.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s old.” He raises a fist and knocks, causing the door to shudder.
I lower my eyebrows and cut a hand across my throat. “You’re being a jerk.”
The door creaks and rattles as it opens, and a woman wearing a gold silk scarf around her head appears. She appears to be in her sixties, maybe early seventies, with charcoal lined eyes behind thick black-rimmed glasses that are three times too big for her face. Fine lines and wrinkles surround both sides of her lips as proof she’s laughed a lot, and her nose is long and flat. “Can I help you with something?” Her gaze is on Arlo.
I glance at Arlo and then back at her, uncertain what my place here is. I consider what he might say and if sarcasm will be his anchor.
“He ran into you a few weeks ago,” I blurt out. “It caused you to drop something, which broke, and he wanted to come and apologize and see if we could maybe replace the item.”
The woman doesn’t look at me, keeping her full attention on Arlo, lowering her glasses as she does. “You were with another boy and reeked of booze,” she says. “Yes. I remember you.”
Arlo flashes a smile that likely works on most women but doesn’t seem to soften this lady up in the least. Instead, she looks almost insulted by his attempt to charm her.
I clear my throat. “Was it an item we can replace for you?”
She keeps her attention on Arlo as she shakes her head. “Mistakes can only be paid by one’s truest feelings and without a shred of untruth. This will come at the end of March when the sun has two faces and the moon only one.” She backs up and starts to close her door.
“Lady, I can’t keep going with this curse until March!” Arlo says.
She laughs, the sound deep and raspy. “You think this curse is your true trial?” She laughs again.
“We’re not trying to make this worse. We want to help—he wants to help. He’s just clearly—” I glance back at Arlo again, fitting him with a glare. “—really bad at apologizing. He thinks you’ve given him bad luck, and I think if we can replace what he broke, it will help him feel better.”
The woman twists, finally acknowledging me. The second she does, I wish she hadn’t because her eyes grow bright, and her lips fall open. “Olivia,” she says my name, and it’s said with so much certainty and realization that my skin prickles with unease. She continues staring at me, slowly tilting her head to one side. She slides her glasses off with thickly knotted fingers and purple nails. “You’re Ellen’s daughter.” She doesn’t pose this as a question, but rather a statement.
I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not.”
The woman smiles, releasing another laugh that blows at my nerves like a westerly wind. “You have her nose and her hair. The same eyes. She always thought acting was where she’d find her true love. I warned her. I did.” She replaces her glasses.
I shake my head. “I don’t know anyone named Ellen,” I tell her.
She smiles again, taking too long to respond. “But your heart does. Your body does. Even your first memories do. Trust me, child, I’d know you anywhere. I’ve been waiting for twenty years to meet you. What breathing issue did you have? You were diagnosed as a child, right? Was it asthma? Tell me it wasn’t anything worse.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about or who you think I am, but you’re wrong, and your accusations are offensive.” I take a few steps back, studying her with an urgency that makes my head spin. Nothing about her is familiar, and yet, her knowledge of me is unnerving.
“I’m so glad you made it home,” she says, her eyes searching my face as she takes a step closer. “I don’t mean to startle you. I’d really like the chance to talk with you … get to know you…”
I turn on my heel and walk away, tears burning hot in my eyes and my limbs feeling unsteady.
I’m halfway to the crosswalk before Arlo manages to catch up to me.
“Hey,” he says. “What was that?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
“She knew you.”
I shake my head. “She probably saw me in the news or something with my dad. I don’t know her.”