Closure

3

Clara washed herself for the first time in days. She brushed her hair, painted her lips red, even shaved her legs. She put on her favorite emerald dress and draped a stylish black shawl around her shoulders. Even if there was the slightest chance of being reunited with Robert, if only for a second, she would look her best for him.

Holding her purse in one hand and the cluster of hairs in the other, Clara stepped out of her house and into the sunlight. She strode coolly across town, feeling confident and beautiful for the first time in ages. Men tipped their caps to her as they passed by, but she pretended not to notice. Her eyes remained focused on the road, eagerly drawing nearer to Madam Fenix's dilapidated building with each step.

She stopped in front of the old brick building. As she looked at the staircase leading down to the basement, her mind started to fill with worried thoughts.

What if this doesn't work? What if Madam Fenix is nothing more than a hoax-selling trickster? What if this isn't enough hair?

She stood still for a long while, allowing her worry to take over her. But as soon as she felt her thoughts begin to manifest into seeds of doubt, she stopped herself.

It's better to feel disappointment today than suffer regret tomorrow.

Swallowing her fear, Clara stepped into the stairwell and quickly descended the steps until she stood facing Madam Fenix's door. Her shaking hand reached up and knocked. The door swung open, whooshing Clara's hair as she found herself standing face to face with the thin, wild-looking woman. To Clara's surprise, Madam Fenix's expression was not bitter or unwelcoming. In fact, she looked pleased to see her.

"Hello, Miss," she said sweetly in her strange accent. "I'm glad to see you've come back."

"Yes, hello," Clara said, trying to seem casual. "I've come to ask whether your offer still stands."

"Of course, it does," Madam Fenix said with a smile. She stepped aside, "Come in."

Clara entered. The room looked just as it had the day before. Dim sunlight and candles, tapestries, rugs, a table with stunted legs at its center. And still, there were no chairs in sight. Without a place to sit, Clara was unsure of where to appropriately place herself. She stepped toward the table and set down her purse. On odd odor lingered in the air, it was smoky but also a bit sweet. Perhaps it was incense or some other sort of burnt herb.

"Did you bring what I asked?" Madam Fenix said, shutting the door and cutting off most of the room's light.

Tentatively, Clara nodded. She held out her hand and gave Madam Fenix the small bundle of hairs. Madam Fenix took them and smiled, admiring them as though they were a precious treasure.

"This will do very nicely, Miss," Madam Fenix said. "And payment?"

Clara took her purse off the table and rummaged inside. She extracted fifty cents and handed over the coins.

"Miss," Madam Fenix said with a slight frown, "these things take a bit of time to accomplish. Reaching the realm beyond our own is no simple task. I don't expect five minutes to be enough."

Clara sighed and gave Madam Fenix a skeptical scowl. Reluctantly, she dug through her purse again and extracted another fifty cents.

"Miss," Madam Fenix said, her tone still unenthused, "I'd hate for you to leave this place regretting what little time you allowed yourself..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Clara blurted. "Here, take this too, then," she thrusted her hand into her purse and extracted a one-dollar banknote. "Will that suffice?"

Madam Fenix took the cash and smiled. She motioned her hand to the table and said, "Please sit."

Confused by the lack of chairs, Clara turned to face the table and froze. Madam Fenix stepped around her and took a seat on the floor. Clara followed suit, sitting directly across from her. As though they had appeared from thin air, Madam Fenix pulled a book of matches and an old, black candle from beneath the table. She placed the candle at the table's center, struck a match and held the flame up to the wick. The black candle looked wicked as it took flame. Its top emitted hardly any illumination, as though its dark wax was absorbing the wick's light. Madam Fenix then held the bundle of hairs up to the candle and burned them in the flame, sending a sour stench through the air.