A Little Bite of Magic Goes a Long Way (BxB)

13 ~ Matt

Afternoons were always quiet at the café. Most of the day's specialty treats sold out by noon, leaving only the staples to choose from. A few customers wandered in now and then—some with dogs and some without—probably to get out of the heat as much as anything else. It was sweltering out there.

After Paul left, I spent the rest of the day staring at my phone, waiting for a text from Ben, and occasionally sending one to him in the hopes he'd be inspired to reply.

He was not.

By the end of the day, I felt thoroughly depressed, and I wished that Ari would bring Mormo by so I could give her a hug. Just seeing her always cheered me up. Maybe I'd ask him if he wanted to drop her off some time and let me watch her for the day. She could be the café's mascot, even.

Then I remembered my resolution to keep away from unusual creatures and realized that Mormo probably qualified as such. The thought hit me so suddenly I almost dropped the plate of biscuits and iced-tea I was delivering to a table where a man sat with an unfortunate pug, which was dressed in a bowler hat and tie.

Maybe Ben would make an exception in Mormo's case, I thought. She was a very well-behaved monster, after all, and it wasn't like he would be fine with never seeing Ari again. Ari seemed to have the same effect on Ben that Mormo had on me.

At four, I closed up, cleaned up, and went home, taking the bus and then walking the rest of the way. As I approached the house, the sight of it struck me the same way it had the very first time I'd seen it, and I found myself falling in love with it all over again.

It was not the grandest house, nor the purest example of Victorian style, but it was perfect in some way I couldn't quite explain. It was three stories, narrow and long, with countless asymmetrical angles and a steep roof. It had a little porch in front with spindly columns and a carved balustrade, and it was covered in decorative trim like an elaborately frosted cake. It was painted powder blue, and the trim was white.

I don't believe there were two matching windows in the whole place.

As I stood gazing up at it, I caught a glimpse of movement in one of the larger of these, and waved, thinking that it might be Pete. Then I turned and looked down the long sloping street to the little glimpse of the bay far below, and sighed. It was early evening, and the water and sky were all pastel pinks and purples, with creeping soft grays drawing down with the veil of night.

I couldn't imagine living anywhere else, but it wasn't really our house, after all, and if Ben wanted to move...

Sighing, I trudged up the stairs to the front porch and spotted our neighbor, Valerie Owens, on her own porch next door. I smiled and waved, and she waved back.

It was the sort of wave that said, 'very good, now move along,' more than 'howdy, neighbor!' but it was still a wave.

Ari had once told me that Valerie was a witch, but he hadn't meant it in the literal sense. I figured that out after she screamed at me for asking if she'd be interested in sharing spells.

Distracted by this memory, and the fact that Valerie was currently wearing a dress that seemed to have been hand-sewn from the world's most hideous curtains, I tripped over something and had to catch myself against our paneled, green front door.

It was a box—a package—and when I examined it, I saw that it had come from New York. It must be the dybbuk box I'd ordered for Ben, I realized.

It was oddly light, wrapped in brown paper, and about 30 centimeters square. Valerie forgotten, I picked it up and brought it inside, excitement trilling along my nerves. Then I remembered that dybbuk boxes were probably among the things Ben wished we had less of in our lives, and placed it on the side table with another sigh.