“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” Jay said with a small laugh. It was a rough laugh that sounded as if it came from a throat unused to laughter.
“There are all kinds of things in here. See if you can find something to interest you.”
“I like those,” he said, pointing to the clear container of black stones she was holding.
“Obsidian,” she said, and she offered him the contents of the container, tipping it in his direction. He sank his hand into the deep pile, feeling their slippery silkiness. They were smooth and cold, very appealing to the touch, and he rifled his fingers through them until he found a fairly large piece and pulled it out.
“What does it do?”
“Well, it helps keep you clear, and strong. It’s very grounding,” she told him. He moved to drop the stone back into the container and she stopped him. “Uhuh, no, you chose it, you keep it.”
“How much?” he asked, reaching for his wallet.
“Complimentary for a first time customer,” she told him.
“No…”
“Umhmm. Yes. Go on, have a look around, I need to sort through a few things, and wait on some customers.” She made another physical gesture with her small head, her hair swaying with the movement as she rolled her eyes toward several women who were leafing through books and fingering a display of dream catchers. Jay became suddenly aware that he was the only man in the shop. He was also aware that Annie expected him to stay, to wait out the comings and goings of a handful of strangers, for what he wasn’t sure. To talk? To relive ‘old times’, although ‘old times’ merely constituted a thirty-day stint in an Arizona clinic? During the year or so that had passed since he was at the Sierra Clinic in Tucson he had often thought of the relationships he had made there and given himself pause to wonder why he was no longer in contact with most of those people. At the time the friendships forged seemed strong, sometimes with an edge of desperation to them. All of the people in the program had relied on each other for many things, but mostly for comfort. Rehab was a frightening experience, where a person could feel safe and secure one moment, then adrift in an emotional sea the next, and it was as natural to cling to other people during that process.
Jay wandered from the counter when Annie bent her head over her work again, and began picking through the overburdened shelves. Half of what he saw he didn’t recognize. Knickknacks and gee gaws that included small gargoyles sitting next to grim faced stone angels and smiling effigies of cats and toads. There were incense burners of a variety of shapes and sizes, and the incense to burn in them: sticks, cones and crushed powders. Stringy things lay beside twisty things; wands made of copper and glass and crystal were crammed into colored glass vases and jars.
Bottles of scents, of crushed petals and herbs all clearly and neatly, labeled, were lined up like soldiers in a row. Jay took them in hand, one by one, and opened those that could be opened to sniff their contents. He found the scent of sage to be reminiscent of home, of what he knew of home, and holidays with his family. It overpowered the odor of roses and lilies and jasmine oil; all the floral scents that were much more delicate than the herbal ones. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of sage over and over. The image of his grandmother rose up on the back of his eyelids. His grandmother was always in the kitchen, and he could see her there now, making some kind of meal, some feast, while the strong sage filled his nostrils.
Chairs and sofas were scattered throughout the main room, with tables stacked with reading material between them. Jay sank into the soft comfort of one of them, his eyes still closed, the bottle of sage in his hand. Normally, the memory of his grandmother would make him sad and that sadness was often paralyzing; not today. Today he could feel a smile spread across his face, feel a calmness come over him that he’d never felt since his grandmother had passed away. Still there was a bittersweet quality to the memories that flowed through his head which made him approach them with trepidation. He was not unlike the small child he saw himself as in his mind: eager, happy, content to sit in the closeness of the warm kitchen and be fed morsels of food as his grandmother cooked and that smell of sage and butter and braising vegetables surrounded him like a blanket.
A hand on his arm made Jay open his eyes.
“Are you here for the reading?” a woman asked him. It took a moment for Jay to register where he was, then another moment for him to register the woman who was bent over him. She was smiling, a tiny pinch of a question in the furrow between her eyebrows. When he lowered his gaze from that small wrinkle of skin he was met with two of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Are you here for the reading?” she asked again.
“Reading?” He had no idea what she was talking about, and her kindly smile told him that she was aware of his ignorance.
“My mistake,” she told him, and her hand, which had hovered near his shoulder, dropped and squeezed him there, sending the heat of touch through him. That touch made him start, but she only smiled at his reaction.
“You’ve got the wrong customer, Violet,” Annie said, approaching from across the room.
“Apparently,” Violet said, but she didn’t look convinced.
“Violet, this is my friend Jay. Jay, this is Violet Wayland. She’s our resident reader,” she explained, leaving Jay as in the dark as he was before the introduction.
“Are you absolutely sure you’re not here for a reading?” Violet asked one more time.
“I don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about,” he told her.
“Violet is a sensitive. She reads astrological charts, and cards, and just about anything else you put in front of her,” Annie explained.
“Yeah? Can you read my mind?” he asked with a grin.
“Of course. Right now, you’re thinking “what a load of baloney”,” she replied with a laugh. The slightly stunned look on his face made her laugh harder. “I’m good,” she joked.
“Violet, the person you’re looking for is over in the metaphysical section,” Annie said.
“I knew that,” Violet said with a wink. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Jay, and she touched him once more, her fingers brushing his shoulder. The contact made him shiver. When she walked away, Annie laid her hand in the exact spot, and the tips of her fingers warmed him.
“Hmm.” Annie made a small noise at the back of her throat.
“What?” Jay asked, responding to the questioning, musing quality to that sound.
“Just thinking,” she said, and she smiled down at him. Jay looked up, unable to keep a smile from his own lips, breaking into a full grin as Annie continued to smile at him. The hand on his shoulder felt ‘right’; for the first time in a long time the touch of another person didn’t bother him in any way. He had always been naturally physical, had always been a hugger and a toucher, sometimes craving contact, sometimes demanding it. The need had never waned, even when he was at his worst, but the desire had, and recently Jay had found himself avoiding the touches of people, no matter how casual. His skin often felt as if it had been rubbed raw these days. Annie’s touch, even Violet’s, surpassed that rawness; soothed it.
Without thinking, Jay tilted his head to rest his cheek on Annie’s hand. She didn’t move for a moment; just let him make small rubbing motions like a contented cat. When her fingers did start to move, stroking the morning stubble on his face he hadn’t bothered to shave away, a large crevasse opened up inside Jay’s head; a deep, dark schism that divided time. There was a choice here, and for one of the few times in his life it was a clear choice. He could lift his cheek, and stay on his side of the chasm, or he could leave his head bent to the soft back of Annie’s hand and leap, hoping to touch ground on the opposite side.
He jumped.
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“This tea will be very calming, even though you might find it, well, strong,” Annie explained, packing the pouch of herb leaves and coarsely ground spices she had concocted for him into the shopping bag on the counter that was already full.
“This really works?” he questioned, still dubious after her lengthy explanation of each ingredient that had already slipped out of his mind.
“Umhmm, yes, it really works. I’ve been using it for months and months,” she assured him. “You might dream, but you should sleep very deeply.”
“That’d be a miracle,” he said under his breath, but he knew that she could hear him, and that he wanted to be heard, anyway.
“Almost,” she said with a smile. “You need sleep. If you can get some, then the whole world is going to look different to you.”
“It’s starting to look different already,” he said. He poked in the bag that was almost full to overflowing. Books, stones, some sage for him to burn and a brand new incense burner to do it in, a small gargoyle that amused him, the tea, and two dream catchers, one big, one small. The big one was plain and very natural looking, with a few dull stones knotted into the thick, leather strings that made up the webbing that stretched between the oblong frame. The smaller one was a decorative confection of purple dyed threads and beads and feathers. Annie had told him that the bigger one was to capture the ‘bad’ dreams and take them away, while the smaller one was to help promote ‘good’ ones. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t dream much at all.
“Go home,” she said to him, hefting the bag and coming around the counter to hand it to him. He put it right back where it had been and took her into his arms to hug. It was a long hug, one where he had to hold himself still to make sure that his arms didn’t shake. He found himself afraid, afraid to leave the shop where he had spent the remainder of the morning in relative quiet and calm. He found himself afraid to leave Annie, too, because her presence was just like the shop she ran, filled with peace and quiet and calm, devoid of expectation. She was the one who backed out of the embrace. Gently, without seeming rude, but definitely ending it well before Jay felt ready to. “Go home and make some tea,” she urged. “Burn some sage and you’ll feel better.”
“Are you going to a meeting tonight?”
“Umhmm, yes, I’m always there,” she told him.
“Then I’ll see you later,” he said.
“Maybe you will.”
Jay took up his bag of purchases with reluctance he didn’t bother to hide. He didn’t want to go home, but if that’s what Annie thought was best then that was where he was going to go. He would go home and hang up the dream catchers, and make the tea to Annie’s specifications which she had written up neatly for him on a stiff piece of thick paper, and he would try and get some sleep.
Annie followed him to the door, holding it open for him. He walked outside, turned to look at her as she stood in the doorway, a pale thing, a small thing, but someone he already realized was much more formidable than himself. She smiled at him, but made no more gestures to say good-bye. He smiled and longed to step back over the threshold of the shop into the cool, dark room beyond Annie’s small figure if only to kiss her; if only to kiss her cheek, but Annie raised her fingers in a small wave, and gently closed the door, sending him on his way.
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© 2004 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2004 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
