Threads

Chapter Eighteen: Part 1

Chapter Eighteen

The Parlour Trick

            The next morning Alice and Maya shared their experiences with the potion as they made a large breakfast of pancakes and bacon. 

            “Mine was almost too real.” Alice didn’t mention the fact that the man in her day dream had resembled Altair. “I mean, my…the ship got attacked and boarded by pirates! And there was a bloody boot…it was a bit scary.”

            “That doesn’t sound nice.” Maya frowned. “I’m glad I chose the beach. It took me a long time to get up the courage to drink the potion, but it was nice, really realistic, like I’d gone on vacation. The guy didn’t evenshow up.  I just enjoyed lying in the sun.”

Alice wondered if the potion somehow knew you. It would make sense that Maya would be shy of intimate contact with a man.

            “So I would guess you would do it again.”

            “I think so. If it was just the beach.”

            “I don’t think I’ll be doing the pirate one again.” Alice turned off the burner on the stove, figuring the stack of six pancakes was more than enough for the two of them.

            “What was your guy like?” Maya smiled.

            “He was…a pirate,” Alice said lamely. She couldn’t help feeling worried all over again. It was just a dream. A magic dream though…does that mean it was different?

            “Alice?” Maya looked amused. “You’ve gone off somewhere. Are you back on the pirate ship?”

            “No.” Alice stabbed one of her pancakes with more force than was strictly necessary.

            “Maybe you should do a different one next time,” Maya said worriedly. “You don’t seem to have liked it.”

            They cleaned up the breakfast dishes and then Alice took the younger girl downstairs. She sat quietly with Shakra by the fireplace, and Alice watched curiously out of the corner of her eye as the girl edged closer to the Tiger. Maya was staring intently. Could Shakra be talking to her already?

            There were several customers in the shop and one of them, a thin and awkward woman with explosively frizzy brown hair and huge coke bottle glasses that magnified her blue eyes, had tried on a strangling scarf and seemed unable to get herself untangled.

            “Ma’am, here…let me.” Alice tried to grab the end of the knitted scarf - once you squeezed the end they went limp - but she couldn’t get hold of it because the woman kept dancing around, flailing her long arms and making awful choking noises. Alice thought crossly that the scarves didn’t exert more pressure than a gentle squeeze, and the woman was trying for a law suit or something.

“Stay still, ma’am.”

            “Ack!” The woman choked, clutching her throat and dancing on the spot. “Ow!”

            “Stop it!” Alice ordered crossly. “I know you’re not choking.”

            The woman stopped for a second, observing her with bug-like eyes. “I am too.”

            “You’re not - now hold still.” Alice managed to wrap her hand around one end of the scarf, and it sagged limply onto the woman’s shoulders, no more exciting than a blue knit scarf someone’s grandmother had made. Alice unwrapped it and threw it back in the box.