A Neat Mess

4.Visit to Sorceress's Lair

Back in her office, Sam was thinking about the brief conversation she had with Pavlov after the meeting with Sheryl and Parker. In a nutshell, she implied that Jenna is acting like an abused child would, and since it appeared impossible on the surface, with her being the only child in a well-off family and all good things on the book, something bad must be buried deep.

She pondered whether Mrs. Pavlov was overreacting or if Sam's life was being steered towards the very path she had tried to escape several times before. The difference this time, however, was that there were many factors beyond her control and much more at stake.

Sam had to do some research to find out what was coming next for her. Pavlov mentioned that t various factors can cause Jenna's behavioru, and Sam needed to figure them out before she talked to anyone.

"Hey!" Sam's manager, Selma, called out from behind her. "It's good you are back - they need you in the Macquarie room. Is everything okay with your daughter?" Selma walked over to Sam's desk holding a large coffee mug that read: 'I only drink coffee until it's time for wine.'

Office humor made Sam physically ill.

"She is fine," Sam assured Selma with a tired laugh. "Just a false alarm, and you know how chatty school staff can get!"

"Ok, then - chop chop! They need you there now." Sam thought about how much she hated Selma, and even more so in this instance. "Which meeting room was it?" Sam asked, but Selma was already gone.

Sam couldn't remember how to get to the Macquarie room, and despite the implied urgency of the meeting, she knew it could just as easily be done over email. Such meetings were normally wrapped up with the phrase: "Okay, I guess we'll do nothing more, for now."

Despite her efforts to avoid doing so, Sam began thinking of her childhood. She couldn't remember hurting other kids when she was Jenna's age. Of course, there were bullies, but people seemed to care somewhat less about bullies back then.

The voice on the phone said, "Now, please turn to page 24 in the agreement. As you can see..." Sam wondered whether she was a bully by today's standards or if she and her friends were just pranksters.

Julie, or Jamie or whoever was on the phone, said: "...Are there any questions?" No one had any questions. "So, please have a look at and review the first draft and contact me if there are any issues. We'll discuss it in more detail next week." The button person thanked the woman and pressed the button to end the call.

The most frustrating part of Sam's current dilemma was the discussion she had to have with her husband that night. She knew that before saying anything to Ben, she should seek the wisdom of the 'Sorceress.'

Despite her title, Sorceress didn't identify as a witch. In fact, she preferred to call herself a 'stay-at-home yogi.' She was maybe the closest thing to a friend that Sam had.

Sorceress was a retired literature teacher who lived in a cute and cozy house by herself. She had no family or close friends that Sam knew of. The beauty of Sam's relationship with Sorceress was that they only knew about each other as much as each wanted the other person to know.

Her real name was Jessica, but Sam called her 'Sorceress' because she believed everything could be cured by the right state of mind and some loose-leaf tea concoction. Sam called it witch craft, mainly because some of them were real good. Really really good.

Sam's hands were running from the keyboard to the mouse and back. It is not always bad to be so used to what you do when your brain is busy with more important issues, Sam thought to herself. Her job was too mediocre for her intelligence and skills, but it matched with the woman's sense of self-worth. Progress needed proactivity and being exposed, rattling the comfort-zone, but Sam'd always erred on the side of laying low.

Sam compared Jenna with herself when she was eight years old, around the time her parents separated. All the Nasty insults being hurled back and forth. Her father was a broken man. Sam felt invisible during that time and, looking back, that was the best time of her life. No, there was definitely no similarity between Sam and Jenna's upbringing. Jenna wasn't growing to become her, she just couldn't.

An uncomfortable, tingly feeling crept beneath Sam's skin. It felt as if little ants were marching and biting their way through her veins. The room started to feel incredibly cold. Her vision started to get blurry, and all she could hear was the clock hanging on the wall: BOOM...BOOM...BOOM, getting louder and louder. Her heart rate was elevated, and the background noises started to fade away. Sam knew very well what would come next if she did not find a way to control it. Breathe, she commanded herself. Breathe.

The past began to close in on Sam like a stealthy predator creeping upon its pray. Before it was too late, Sam managed to snap herself out of it, stood up, and walked to the kitchen, hoping to find someone she could strike up a conversation with. No one was in, but the clock on the wall had just struck five. Finally, the workday had ended. Sam made a phone call to let Ben know she would be meeting with a friend after work.

Sam knocked on Jessica's large white door, which had six rectangular colourful glass windows. A voice from inside shouted, "IT IS OPEN!"

Inside the house, the aroma of exotic incense mingled with a subtle symphony of ambient music. The soft, synthetic sound of rhythmic crackling firewood lent an ancient feel.

Jessica was practicing her yoga poses. Sam had to tilt her head to the right just to figure out where her friend was placing her limbs. Jessica appeared to be practically standing on the back of her neck with her arms reaching around to her back. Her chin was tucked into her chest, and her legs were opened around 170 degrees, pointing forward. It seemed very uncomfortable.

"Are you inventing new poses now?" Sam asked.

"Namaste to you, too! This is a very old move," Jessica responded.

"And what is it called?"

Jessica's voice conveyed the physical strain induced by the move. "Not sure yet," she said as she brought her legs together and slowly lowered them onto the floor. At the same time, she moved her arms to the front, shaping a circle, and eventually ended up lying straight on the ground. She waited for a few seconds, then turned to her right side and slowly moved to a seated position in preparation to begin her prayer.

Sam sat in silence until the yogini opened her eyes and smiled.

"How have you been?" Jessica asked.

"Jenna made a mess today, and I was summoned to the school for a hearing. She has been leading other kids to do some crazy things, and they have been following her orders!"

Jessica stood up, untied her hair, and let it down. She was very healthy and fit for a middle-aged woman, Sam thought. 

"Do you mean leading like Mr. President or Charley Manson? Between you and me, I don't really see much difference!" Jessica quipped, rolling her eyes. Sam really liked her sarcastic sense of humour.

"Ummm, let's see..." Sam began. "What she has done is conceivably wrong in the eyes of the average person... so I would say it fits into the Manson category."

Jessica poured a cup of tea from a cute little iron pot and handed it to Sam, squinting. "Is something really worrying you?"

"Yes, talking to the dad about it! It's going to be annoying and it'll end up being my fault, and you know some cans of warms being opened..." Said Sam sipping her tea.

"I see. You have a problem that you can handle, but you're worried about an issue that doesn't exist yet, which getting Ben involved will create some, and worry him for no reason? I'm sure you have thought about this already."

No one could portray spousal deceit and dishonesty the way Jessica could and make it sound beautiful and even necessary. That's why she was a sorceress.