Kesha blinks rapidly. Hannah is staring at the mess on my table, which I would normally never allow to happen.
“Okay.” I look back and forth between them. “The most bizarre thing happened to me last night.”
I fill them in on the evening’s events, starting with the nice, normal dinner, the welcoming family, the shocking appearance of Trace—which garners a lot of excitement—and then the big stunner. At this point I have to jump up and pace again, spilling more wine as I gesture and talk. I finish with Trace’s appearance at the Singing Horse and his cute magic trick. I point at the peony sitting in a vase on the end table.
The apartment falls silent. Unusual.
I sit again, gnawing on my bottom lip like a cow chewing its cud.
“Well.” Hannah tips her glass up and guzzles down her wine.
Kesha stands and marches to the kitchen, returning with the second bottle of Moscato. She opens it and refills all our glasses. “Do you have tequila? I feel like this might not be enough.”
“What do you guys think?” I eye them apprehensively. “I swear I wasn’t doing mushrooms last night. Unless they slipped something into my drinks.” My forehead tightens. “Hey, maybe that’s what happened. I thought I saw a wineglass that was empty suddenly full.”
“Um…”
“And don’t worry about the potato thing.” I wave a hand. “You just can’t tell anyone else about this.”
Now they look concerned.
“Do you believe that?” Hannah asks, blond eyebrows drawn together.
“I love you guys, so I don’t want to take a chance.”
Hannah pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding. “This is all my fault.”
“What? How?”
“I’m the one who suggested the DNA test. I knew it’s a risk because you never know what you’re going to learn, but I honestly never imagined that this would happen.”
“Who would imagine it?” Kesha says. “It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it isn’t.” I swallow another mouthful of wine. “So… the big question is… what do I do?”
“What do you mean?” Kesha tilts her head.
“Do I learn how to witch? Or do I pretend this never happened and go about my business?”
Kesha’s eyelashes flutter wildly. Her superlong falsies look amazing on her, but right now I swear I can feel a breeze from them. “You mean… you’re actually considering… You actually think you might be… a witch?”
I laugh with just a tinge of hysteria. “Of course not!”
“But you said… you’re thinking of going along with your new family?”
“They’re my family.” That comes out sadder and more pathetic than I’d like.
Kesha covers her eyes with one hand, massaging her temples. “Jesus Christ.”
“Well.” Hannah speaks up. “I for one think this could be amazing!”
I lower my chin and give her a skeptical look.
“As long as you’re sure you weren’t roofied,” she adds hastily. “Maybe they’re a little eccentric, but they sound fun!”
It was fun. I sigh.
“They sound crazy,” Kesha says bluntly. “Literally. You can’t possibly be thinking of seeing them again.”
I bite my lip.
Hannah’s gaze shifts back and forth between us anxiously. “They’re her family, Kesha.”
Kesha snorts. “Maybe? Who knows! There are a lot of weirdos out there. You know, when you said they could be serial killers or sex traffickers… you had a point.”
I feel my bottom lip tremble. “You’re not wrong,” I mumble. The idea of giving up on family makes me sad and wistful.
“Oh no!” Hannah shakes her head. “I’m sure they’re not!”
“How do you know?” Kesha asks.
Hannah glares at her. “Could you be a little more supportive?”
“I’m worried about her!” Kesha glowers back.
“Stop!” I hold up a hand. “I don’t want you two arguing about it. I won’t see them.” Then I think about Trace again, asking me if I had the courage to open my mind. “I think.”
“You want to,” Hannah says firmly.
“I didn’t feel threatened,” I say slowly. “I made a joke about them putting something in my drink, but I know that didn’t happen.”
Kesha’s mouth turns down, but she says nothing.
“Sure, none of us expected something like this,” Hannah says. “But you know you haven’t been satisfied with your life for a while now.”
“Or ever,” I mutter. “They asked me if I’d ever felt different. But doesn’t everyone feel different?”
Kesha purses her lips. “Oh yeah.”
“I suppose,” Hannah agrees. “How do you feel different, Romy?”
I think about that. “Well, I always wanted to do things that my mom didn’t want me to. Musical theater. Art classes. She let me do musical theater for a few years, but she hated it. She didn’t want to come see my shows. She told me art classes were a waste of time.” I pause, remembering more. “Sometimes… weird things happened.”
My friends have gone quiet, their expressions intent. “Like what?” Kesha asks.
“When I was in high school, Sophia Carmichael teased me about my flat chest. She was the mean girl,” I explain. “And she had huge hooters. I was upset and mortified, and that night I… Oh God, I’m ashamed of this, but I wished something bad would happen to her. And the next day she failed our biology test.”
They repress smiles.
“Karma,” Kesha says.
“Or maybe not.” Hannah arches a brow.
“I had a part-time job at Dean’s Diner. There was a homeless man who sometimes hung out near the diner. I always felt bad for him. I didn’t have much money to give him, but sometimes I’d take him a sandwich. I wished there was more I could do for him. And then one day someone gave him a winning lottery ticket.”
“Holy shit.” Kesha’s eyes widen.
I’m remembering more. “I told my mom not to park her car on the street one night. She thought I was being silly and dramatic. I was so upset, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so I snuck out of the house and moved the car. The next morning a tree had fallen right where the car had been parked.”
Their eyes are huge.
“That freaked my mom out,” I continue. “She wouldn’t even talk about it. And if I ever tried to tell her something because I ‘had a feeling,’ she told me not to be ridiculous. She told me I needed to make decisions based on reason and logic.” I pause. “So I stopped telling her about my feelings. Like I stopped pointing out how the tree branches against the night sky looked like lace. Or how I thought little leprechauns lived under the mushrooms growing in the backyard. I was so weird.”
I give my friends an apprehensive look. I’ve never told them these things either.
To my surprise, sympathy and sadness fill their eyes.
“Oh, Romy. That’s not weird.”
“That’s lovely, and I’m sad your mom didn’t appreciate those things about you,” Hannah says softly.