Chapter 10
Tory woke due to the flickering of the fluorescent lights and the noise it was emitting. She checked Jeremy. He was breathing. He had removed the covers from himself. She pulled the covers back up and then was startled by what she thought was an apparition. A woman stood next to the bed. She put a lip to her finger, as if to say be quiet. She was wearing a simple white dress, maybe a robe, tied with a gold sash. Her hair was straight, with sharp angles, Egyptian in flavor. She extended her hands out, palms down, facing Jeremy. He lifted from the bed. He floated above the bed. The blanket hung down. The woman touched him, hand on his heart, hand on his forehead. The lights flared full on, a golden light that was inconsistent with what it should produce. She closed her eyes and whispered something, incoherent. She pushed him gently back to the bed.
“Are you the Goddess?” Tory asked.
“I am the Priestess,” she said. “Massika. Be at peace, child. You are accepted.”
She brought her hands together, in a sign language gesture that meant Isis, and bowed. She disappeared into light. The light went off. It stayed off. Jeremy was solid asleep, his chest rose ever so subtly. She snuggled against him, but she did not go back tosleep.
♫♪►
Tory woke, got up to pee, washed her hands, watched Jeremy for a moment, and then decided to go outside. The sun was up, bright and beautiful on the horizon. She walked out from under the awning connecting the house to the side house and raised her arms. She thanked the goddess for her life. She walked down to the beach where she found some women doing yoga. Shuri was one of them. She joined them. Shuri recognized her, acknowledging her, but they didn’t talk until after the routine. Afterwards, she learned the name of the other women’ Michelle, Charles’ wife, and her two friends, Nicky and Kim, Dolphin Cheerleaders. Michele made an invitation to come in the main house for breakfast, then she excused herself and her friends so Shuri and Tory could talk. Shuri and Tory sat on the beach, gentle waves coming in.
“You live here?” Tory asked.
“Visiting. Charles is my brother,” Shuri said.
“Bio brother?” Tory asked.
“We were in a house together,” Shuri said. “Foster. Charles. Me. A couple others. Jeremy was the last brother. Before it blew up. Before he blew it up.”
“Oh,” Tory said.
“It needed to be blown up,” Shuri said. “Do you want the story?” “No,” Tory said. “I can imagine the story.” “I doubt that,” Shuri said.
“True enough. Imagination tends to be worse than the reality,” Tory said.
“I assure you, you cannot imagine it bad enough for reality to be better,” Shuri said. “I can imagine some pretty bad shit,” Tory said. She touched her hand, patting it. “And I sense some things.”
“You have the gift,” Shuri said.
“Gift. No compensation is worth what we go through to get the gift,” Tory said. “And sometimes, it feels like just more trauma. The things I see in people…”
“Yeah,” Shuri said. “That’s the gift. That’s the curse.” She drew in the sand. “You know enough about Jeremy’s gift. He went and made some fast cash, bought a home, made some fake parents, and took us out of the system. He made us his purpose to live. Three of us were special needs. A paraplegic, one with severe ASD, and another cognitively impaired. Charles and I, we were just unfortunate to have been born into families that didn’t want us. Charles, Jeremy, and I made a pact. We had to be financially successful to take care of the three. Jeremy got us through high school and college with his talent; he even had the fake parents adopt us. We became successful. The three are super well cared for. We established a home for special needs kids. We’re active in our community. We have rescued other foster kids, given them mission, some have even taken on the pact- become family. That’s the light summary.” “Some summary,” Tory said. “Lots of places to fill in between the line.”
“Yes,” Shuri said. “What’s your summary?” “Charles thinks Jeremy’s gift is hypnosis,” Tory said.
Shuri nodded, aware of the block. “It’s the only way he can process it,” Shuri said.
“And you?”
“I am a witch,” Shuri said. “And I am a plural. I can do everything he can, except make them real. You?”
“I am also witch. I am also a plural,” Tory said.
Shuri nodded. “You don’t want to summarize?”
“You’re situation was bad,” Tory said. “I don’t want to compete for worse.”
Shuri considered this. “Not a competition. Jeremy me has a way of attracting our kind.
You seem really well adjusted, comparatively.”
“I am not,” Tory said. “I just have a good mask. And if I need to switch out, I can take a vacation.”
“Done that,” Shuri said. “Where do you go?”
“There’s astral college. I am on campus a lot,” Tory said. “Sometimes I am a cat. Maybe a future life. Or a past life. Some of those dreams are hard to track.” She was quiet for a moment.
“You really want to know?”
“We’re sisters,” Shuri said.
Tory was quiet for a while, studying the waves. Her story started with a mother who had a drug problem, and a serious problem picking men. Molestation started by the age of three. By six, she was pulled by CPS and placed with a maternal aunt. The uncle picked up where the last molester left off. This went for a while until she was placed in foster care. One of the foster care kids picked up where the uncle left off. A father she had never seen before came into the picture, and took her from foster care. The step mom was physically abusive, and the worse of it came when father was deployed. So she took to staying away, ran away. She’d find parties, mostly because there was always food. She avoided alcohol and drugs. She had enough of that with her mother, but at the last party she attended, her drink was spiked, and she was gang raped by the high a college football team. When she woke up on the street, she went to the hospital. The police came out and took a report, but assumed she was a drug addict and didn’t follow up. Two of the rapists made videos. One of the videos got shared to the wrong party and found its way to law enforcement, who happened to recognize Tory and knew she was underage. She got the brunt of the fall out, as if it were her fault. There was scandal and multiple indictments. Tory was taken into protective custody. More than one of the kids came from big money and had lawyers. It turned out that one of the players had also impregnated her. More accusations came out of her being a willing participant because she was interested in money. There was pressure to abort. Both videos were found by this time, and it was clear her drink was spiked and she couldn’t consent. It was clear she had several moments of lucidity and asked them to stop, tried to fight, was held down. Not everyone was caught in the videos. Everyone in the videos went to jail. Tory was put into a witness protection, her name changed, and she was moved to a different state. Her old name, her old self, was dead. Her new purpose was to be a mom to James, and to pursue her education.
“You didn’t abort?” Shuri asked.
“James didn’t do anything to deserve a death sentence,” Tory said.
“He doesn’t remind you…”
“I cope. I respond not with fight or flight, but with love,” Tory said.
“You are doing better than coping,” Shuri said.
“James and my best friend were kidnapped. The man holding them wants ten million dollars,” Tory said. “They were looking for the Goddess, but found Jeremy.”
Shuri drew closer and put an arm around her. “You will have the money, sister,” Shuri said.
“I am not worried about the money,” Tory said. She met Shuri’s eyes. “I am worried a lot of people are going to die. And, for the first time in my life, I am okay with that.”
♫♪►
Jeremy woke to find himself alone. He grabbed up his pack and pulled out a page of a hawk. He manifested the hawk and sent in into the air. He then pulled out a oage that had been ripped from a gun and ammo page; a hot bikini girl with a machine gun, and a lone firearm, a Sig Sauer P226 with two clips. There was no evidence of villainy. There were cars in the drive he didn’t recognize. Going higher he found women performing yoga on the beach. Tory was with them. He relaxed. He folded the page with the weapons and the girl and put it on the counter. He stared in the mirror, staring at himself, and sorting the external vision. He perched the hawk in the tree, watching over Tory, and then attended to bodily needs. After the toilet, he showered, opened a toothbrush and brushed his teeth. There was evidence that Tori had opened a brush and had done the same. He found fresh clothes in his pack, jeans, a t-shirt, socks. He put the gun page in his back pocket. After dressing he pulled a sketchbook out of his bag and turned to free page. He sat crisscross applesauce on the bed and rendered drawings that were better than just sketches, but done as quickly. There was a song in his head, ‘Red red wine,’ Bailey Pelkman version, mostly acoustic guitar. The line that brought him to the song was “Birds eye view leaves my head…” and after that, he had to allow the song to play, or that damn line would be stuck in his head all day.
He captured the beach in a boxed scene, the hawk in the tree. He captured the women doing yoga. He captured three leaving. The redhead got more attention than the other- she had clarity. He captured Shuri and Tory on the beach. He stopped drawing as he heard the story. A light knocking interrupted his session.
“Come,” Jeremy said.
Charles entered. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “Why?”
“Bob said you were injured,” Charles said.
“Oh. Yeah. Well, I am better,” Jeremy said.
“Good. I am sorry. I thought it was a good contact,” Charles said.
“Not your fault,” Jeremy said.
“Come and get breakfast,” Charles said. “Michelle insists.”
Jeremy got up and followed Charles back to the house, through the laundry room, and through the kitchen, where Michelle intercepted him and hugged him fiercely. He accepted the hug, the way a hamster accepts being picked up- he froze, nearly dropping his sketchbook. His arms and hands remained down. His eyes went down, but into her cleavage and so he closed his eyes.
“Oh, I am not hurting you,” Michelle said.
“No,” Jeremy said.
She told him to go sit down. He opened his eyes just enough navigate. The redhead was sitting in the chair he normally took when he was here. He stood there, awkwardly, until Charles guided him to a chair and practically sat him. Charles introduced him to the guests.
“Nice to meet you,” Jeremy said, without making eye contact. He started drawing.
“So, you’re an artist?” Kim, the blond, asked. “Um, no, yeah, not paid,” Jeremy said.
“He is a man of many talents,” Charles bragged.
Michelle came to the table with coffee. “Put that away. I want you to eat,” she insisted. Jeremy set the sketchpad and pencil down. Shuri and Tory were on their way up. The hawk followed and disappeared over the house. Nicky took up the sketchpad.
“Wow,” Nicky said.
Kim got into it as well. “Were you spying on us?”
“From this perspective, he would have had to been in the ocean,” Nicky said. Tory and Shuri entered. Shuri kissed him as she passed to a seat, and lingered long enough to not quite whisper, “You don’t have to spy.” She had noticed.
“I was worried,” Jeremy said.
“You missed me?” Tory asked.
Jeremy stared at his plate. “I was worried,” he said again.
“He missed you,” Shuri said.
“These are damn good,” Nicky said.
“You’re only saying that because he’s favoring you,” Kim said.
“Once you established we were okay, why did you linger?” Shuri asked.
“It’s hard to let go,” Jeremy said.
“You want to do a portrait of me?” Nicky asked.
“Yes,” Jeremy said, automatically. “No.” He gripped the chair.
“It’s okay,” Tory said, patting his hand, and then prying it loose so she could hold it.
“You know how I struggle,” Jeremy said. “I don’t want another character in my head.” “Oh, you make comics!” Nicky said. “That’s why you boxed things?” “I box things to contain them,” Jeremy said.
“So, you can make things real from sketches?” Tory said.
“Yes. No. There’s levels. I have a photographic memory and a vivid imagination and so, the things I draw are real in a mind space,” Jeremy said. “I don’t have to draw to draw someone into that space, but the more I draw them, the more solid they became in that space, but doing so kind of frees up free space in my operating virtual memory, which gives me a little relief. I don’t know how to say that better.”
“So, you’re saying, you do a portrait of me, I will be permanently in your head?” Nicky asked.
“Forever young,” Shuri said.
“Oh, please draw me,” Nicky said.
Jeremy bit his lip, his eyes going to his lap. “May I be excused?” “Eat!” Michelle said.
“I’m horny,” Jeremy said.
“Come on,” Tory said, ready to get up.
“No,” Michelle said. “Eat first, cold shower later.”
“Think of something else,” Charles said.
Jeremy let go of his chair with his right hand and reached for bacon. His hand was shaking.
“You’re affliction is worse?” Shuri asked.
“I am feeling a lot of anxiety at the moment,” Jeremy said.
“Think of something else,” Charles said.
“Are you seeing anyone for this?” Michelle asked.
“Someone other than the Victoria Secret Catalog,” Charles asked.
Jeremy frowned, a bit of anger. “I was doing fine. I’d even cut back on self-medicating,”
Jeremy said. “Till I open my mouth up in class. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?”
“Because you’re human and you need to interact, ask questions, have real people in your life,” Shuri said.
He held the bacon slice. Not eating.
“You’re like Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory?” Nicky asked.
“No!” Jeremy protested.
“Yes,” Michelle said. “You just have to keep boundaries with him.”
“I am nowhere near as neurotic as…”
“When’s the last time you had a meal with someone?” Michelle asked.
“Last night,” Jeremy said.
“And before that?” Michelle asked.
“Eight months ago,” Jeremy said.
“That’s too long,” Michelle said.
“I will make sure he eats with others from now on,” Tory said.
Jeremy lowered his hand with the bacon.
“What, you’re trying to find ways to ditch me?” Tory asked. “Jeremy,” Shuri said. “She’s family. Don’t lose her.” “I feel like there’s a lot of eyes on me,” Jeremy said.
“You’re the one who announced being horny,” Charles said. Shuri blinked. “You are hot.”
“He really is,” Tory agreed, playfully.
“He is sweating,” Nicky said. “Slightly flushed.”
“Fever?” Michelle asked, getting up to go touch his forehead. “You’re burning up.” “That’s just his embarrassment. She meant they’re spying on him,” Tory asked.
“Who’s they?” Michelle asked.
“They’re trying to. This house is protected with obscurity fields,” Shuri said.
“Don’t talk like that,” Charles said.
“She understands. She is practicing,” Shuri said.
“She’s a witch, too?” Michelle asked.
“Like a real witch, or just practicing Wicca?” Kim asked.
“I practice,” Nicky said.
“Seriously, I’d like to have some real conversations at this table,” Charles said.
“Who’s they?” Michelle asked.
Shuri frowned, concentrating. “I don’t know. I can’t follow it. Multiple lines of interest.” “Who did you piss off?” Michelle asked.
“Can we please, discuss sports?” Charles asked. “You want to talk about sports?” Tory asked.
“Yes,” Charles said. “No,” the other ladies voted. Jeremy took a bite of bacon.
“You don’t like sports?” Tory asked Kim and Nicky.
“I like dancing,” Nicky said. “I know about sports because it’s part of the job.” “I am in it for the prestige,” Kim said.
“You like sports?” Charles asked.
“I love sports,” Tory said. “I love hockey the most.” “I like sports movies,” Shuri said.
“The Goon?” Tory asked.
“Oh, excellent. Remember the Titans!” Shuri said.
“Is that part of the Avengers?” Nicky asked.
No one was sure if she were joking. Jeremy was calmer. He finished his bacon. He took
Tory’s bacon.
“Jeremy, no,” Michelle said.
“It’s okay,” Tory said.
“No,” Michelle said.
Jeremy put her bacon back.
“You can have more, after you clean your plate,” Michelle said.
“He’s grown ass man, let him eat what he wants,” Charles said.
“No,” Michelle said. “Eat the quiche. It has asparagus, leeks, and roasted garlic and tomatoes and it’s healthy. And don’t you say anything about Eskimos only eat meat and fish no vegetables. You’re not an Eskimo.”
“Do as she as says and we might get out of here alive,” Tory said.
Jeremy tried digging around the tomatoes. Michelle tapped her plate with her spoon, and he ate the tomatoes, with a face.
“So, you like Avengers?” Tory asked.
“I love Ironman,” Nicky said. “Maybe you can draw me with Robert Downey Jr?” Jeremy said. “No. I am still protesting,” he said.
“Protesting Ironman?” Kim asked. “Or Robert?”