Chapter Thirty-Five – The King of Wands

The List Serve fundraising party was in full swing when we arrived.

I was surprised by how many people were there. Almost all of them were Pagan, too. I couldn’t help but notice how openly they wore their spiritualities. I had always been taught that my spiritual beliefs, which ran contrary to Christianity, were something to be ashamed of. I had kept my love of tarot or anything that went against the word of God a secret. It felt like hiding a large part of who I was in the shadows, yet one more thing I had to hide in order to fit in.

Here, there was no judgement. There was only a feeling of joy, clear and present. The air in the room was filled with a subtle hum and the light was bright and clear. I knew that I was entering a room where the majority of people here believed in magic, and that brought me so much comfort and joy. I felt like I was entering a part of my life that I was always going to find, even though I didn’t know I was looking for it. The joy in that moment made the walls that I always kept up around myself dissolve. I was safe here. I was nervous entering a gathering where I didn’t know who the people were, but my spirit recognized them as friends. That had never happened before.

Lisa brought me around to the people she knew and that included most of the room. I could tell that these people genuinely loved her. I was worried the first time that Lisa brought me up to someone she knew and introduced me, but by the third group of people, that nervousness was gone. I knew that it would take me some time to remember everyone’s names, but I knew that each one of them were exactly who they were. The warmth they gave me was honest and true and I knew that I had never been hugged so many times in the space of half an hour.

We headed to the bar and I got myself a beer. Lisa put her arm around my waist and pulled me over to a man that was standing at the bar talking to someone else, a woman with curly auburn hair. She was smoking a cigarette, and I remember the smoke seeming to curl around the sound of her laughter. Lisa tapped on the man’s shoulder, he turned and I felt my world stop for a moment that seemed like forever and an instant of time all at once.

He had dark brown hir that fell to his shoulders. It was spiky and curly all at once. He had blue eyes that looked like the ocean and lips that were drawn out in a smile. I felt self-conscious and wanted to be seen and hide all at the same time. I walked closer to him and the woman he had been speaking to raised her eyebrows at me as if to see what I was made of, and then she gave me a welcoming smile free of malice.

“This is my friend Francis, you know the one that I was telling you about?” Lisa said.

“This is my roommate and friend Stacey,” Francis said.

“Who is going to make herself scarce. Nice to meet you, Jamieson. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.” She hooked her arm through one of Lisa’s. “Come on, you can buy me a glass of wine.”

I watched Lisa and Stacey walk away and felt a moment of panic mixed with the heady thrill of knowing. This moment was right, I would be okay. I had to trust in spirit. I moved closer to Francis and felt warmth, smelled something soft. Francis smiled at me and I noticed one of his eyetooth was crooked.

“Lisa tells me that you’re quite the writer.”

I felt the blush of warmth inside me and hoped that it didn’t show on my cheeks. “I write a little.” I said.

“More than just a little, I’m told. She’s showed me one of your poems.”

I was aghast to have been so laid bare before this man that I hardly knew but wanted to know so much more of. I reminded myself not to lay myself completely bare in front of him, but I thought that he could see me anyways, the true me that only a few people in my life could see. Francis could see that and he was still smiling. “She shouldn’t have done that.” I said.

“Nonsense,” he said, pulling the paper from his pocket. “It told me so much about you. I’ve read it quite a few times.”

He unfolded the paper, and I could see that it had been folded and unfolded countless times. The folds were starting to wear the paper clean through. I touched my poem, marvelling at the fact that someone had actually read it that many times.

I watched as he folded the poem again and then placed it back in his pocket. I followed the motion of his arm and watched as his shoulders relaxed. Though he was dressed in dark colours, he gave off a light and a warmth that I could feel from where I stood. I just wanted to bask in that fire he gave out. His presence was beyond his body and I could feel him even though we weren’t touching.

I knew that Lisa meant for the two of to talk about being raped in our pasts, that she felt that it would offer some kind of healing. I just didn’t want to talk about any of that. I wanted to learn all I could about Francis. It seemed like he had the same idea.

“Lisa says that you were hurt, too. That you carry a lot of scars. I do, too. I’m sorry that anyone ever hurt you.” He reached out and gently took my right hand, rubbed the pad of his thumb across my knuckles. “We can talk about that later, but tonight I just want to get to know you. Would that be okay?”

I nodded and felt the warmth emanating from him increase. “That would be lovely,” I said and when the blush came, filling up my cheeks with colour, I didn’t do anything to hide my face.

Chapter Thirty-Four – The Queen of Wands

Lisa knew how much light she gave out into the world. She was utterly and completely aware that people fell under her spell. Man, woman, it didn’t matter. She always had a score of people willing to help her so that they could benefit from the brilliance that she gave out.

Which is probably why she was determined to help me.

What I’d come to realize was that light was a transactional thing with Lisa. If she loved you, you were golden and got her at full wattage. If she liked you, a little less so, but she still sparkled. If she didn’t like you, there was usually a reason, and you were shunned from her light. This wasn’t done willy nilly. She didn’t withhold her light to be cruel; I wasn’t sure she had it in her to do that. As I got to know her, I watched how she would interact with those around her. She looked like the sun surrounded by the orbit of people around her.

I didn’t know how to feel within the orbit around her. I was just grateful that I had found safety with someone that felt like my best friend and my mom at the same time. She would encourage me I little ways, trying to bring me out of my shell. I had retreated father and father into myself, and Lisa did what she could to bring me out of it. The talent competition was a perfect example of this

“I know you can do funny well, try and be funny. A serious monologue isn’t going to win the competition. Do it from the point of being Pagan and your parents don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, like my parents asked me if I had gotten into sacrificing or blood in my rituals when I told them I was Pagan.”

Lisa let out a snort. “Oh, my Goddess, you have to lead with something like that. It’s perfect.”

She gently pulled me out of myself so that I could begin to see who I was. I performed bits and pieces of my monologue as I wrote, and she helped me to put the pieces in order. She was creative in her own ways, but she helped to make my creativity bloom into something real and tangible that I could feel taking hold of me. She was the spark that helped my flame to grow. As I continued to write on whatever I could find, random receipts, ruled paper pulled from a notebook, it felt as if she were my muse.

The idea of doing a monologue in front of a group of people was like any other day at the theatre. Out of all the areas of the dramatic arts that I had tried (acting, writing, filming, dramatic roles, etc.) the one that I loved the most was improv. I loved that a whole world could open up out of a handful of words and the mere suggestion of a place.

I loved that in drama, I would normally be able to lose myself in the life of someone else. The fact that this would be the first time talking about something that had actually happened was kind of a revelation for me. I didn’t like talking about myself. It was one of the ways that I was able to help others. I listened to other people and offered help when I could so that we didn’t have to talk about who I was.

I kept the details light, but the fact that there was even one iota of truth to the monologue was such a big step for me. I was too young to realize that every writer puts a part of themselves into everything that they write. I worried that no one would want to hear what I had written because of that truth. It was so long since I’d been on stage that I wasn’t sure I’d be any good. I knew that it wasn’t enough just to say the words, I had to be good. I practiced my delivery, and I knew that if I fucked up, I would just ad lib until I got back on track. I got the monologue down to two and a half minutes. I told myself that if I fucked up, I would just improv it. That’s all there was to it.

The night before the show, Lisa and I were out on the porch smoking a cigarette. I watched the curls of smoke against the dark blue background of the sky at dusk. I looked up to the stars that were shining above me and knew that if I wished hard enough, something great would happen.

Lisa made me feel like it was okay to make a wish for something better and believe in the possibilities. She let me know that it was okay to trust the Gods and that they would be there to help me along on the way as long as I had faith in myself.

She let me know that it was okay to be me.