“First of all, fuck off. Second, are you supposed to mess around with Voodoo if you’re not a queen?”

“I kind of am a queen,” he shrugged, giggling when I smacked his chest. “You know what your problem is?”

“Other than the fact I know I’m going to be searching alleys for black cats this afternoon?” I asked, putting my hand back on his hip.

“Other than that.”

“I’m assuming you’re about to tell me?”

“Sure,” Cal decided. “You let your fear lead to stand in your own way.”

“What am I afraid of? Voodoo potions?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “I think it’s reasonable to be tentative about that.”

“You’re afraid of the world,” Cal sighed. “Who runs it, what it thinks of you, the darkness, the light. You’re scared of all of it.”

I clicked my tongue, too gobsmacked to acknowledge the statement. Instead I asked, “And you’re not scared of anything?”

“I’m afraid you’re too afraid to be happy,” he admitted. “That you’ll always feel relegated to sadness when it’s not what you deserve.”

“You’re making my neck hurt worse,” I admonished, desperate to change the subject. He had me too raw in my feelings to feel safe, so fearfully, I needed to back away.

“That’s why we need a cat,” Cal nodded, granting me reprieve. “I’ll get you fixed up.”

“If it doesn’t work, you’ll owe me a massage,” I warned, not sure how I always let him talk me into ridiculous shit.

“Deal. I’ll give you one right now as an act of good faith,” he smirked, knowing damn well I would not take him up on the offer. He fanned his hands playfully.

I shook my head and curled into a ball as he tried to lay them on me. “Stop, stop,” I laughed.

“Fraidy-cat, is about to get up close and personal with some real-life alley cats,” he grinned, backing off when I kicked him in the shin. “And be cured.”

“Fuck off with the fraidy-cat shit,” I grumbled, standing to brush dead blades of grass off my pants. “Let’s go get this over with.”

“This is really happening?” he asked, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he jumped up from where he’d been lounging.

“I guess so.”

I didn’t want my nerve questioned, especially by someone I would rather impress. If it took drinking some nasty potion and finding a black cat to divert the conversation from my fears, I was going to do it. I hated and loved how Cal understood me, saw through me even when I didn’t want to be seen. Every single strand.

19

December 1934