I shrug. “Normal… kind of boring really.”
Callie gives me a look, then shakes her head. “You say normal like I have any idea what that means.”
“Well, they were... I don’t know, normal, relatively well-adjusted parent-like people” I answer, wracking my brain to try and explain what I took for granted all my life. “They were generally happy, and we were the typical boring middle-class family. They went to work. I went to school. We tried to have dinner together when we could, but Saturday morning was mandatory family breakfast. I miss the biscuits and gravy my mom would make from scratch.”
“That sounds really amazing,” she murmurs with a hint of longing. “I think I’d like to live a normal boring life.” With a rueful laugh, she adds, “Being a spirit witch, I don’t think that’s really in the cards for me.”
Since I saw what her past was really like, one question has been on a horrible loop in my mind. “Why didn’t you run away?” I whisper, knowing I shouldn’t ask, but unable to understand why she stayed.
Tucking herself more around my arm, she answers, “Where would I have gone? And with what money? In my mind, he was all I had in the world and controlled everything.”
“A shelter?” I suggest.
She snorts with contempt, and I get the feeling that my naivety might be showing.
“You have to remember, you’ve seen what happened sort of first hand… you know what he did, but to everyone else... the Bastard was a charming son of a bitch,” she sneers, while her hand grips mine tighter. “If I’d run, he’d of had my face plastered on the 6 o’clock news before I could figure out my next thought-- let alone my exit strategy.”
Callie sighs in the way of a person that has thought out every angle and still ends up with the same horrible answer.
“Bottom line, there’s no realproofof what he did,” she stresses, years of hopelessness filling her voice. “How do I tell the police he physically abused me without evidence? I’d be just another little rich girl telling lies because she wasn’t getting enough of daddy’s attention.”
“Yeah, wanting more attention really wasn’t your problem,” I reply without thinking, but luckily get a laugh. I swallow my follow-up question that she could’ve shown them her power, having seen more than enough sci-fi movies and television to know how that would work out.
“Anyway, I’m here now, right?” she states, bumping my side. “Can’t change the past. Have to keep moving forward and hopefully make better decisions in the future.”
I cringe. “I didn’t mean...”
“It’s fine, Casper,” she replies, looking up at me with an understanding smile, then changing the subject, asks, “So, what activities did you guys have planned for this post-graduation trip?”
Drink and hit on girls… Probably shouldn’t go with that answer.
“We uh… the resort had some stuff to do. Swimming, rock climbing, kayaking… Oh, they have a zip line that I really wanted to try!” I exclaim, happy to switch gears.
“Well you’re the wizard in this land, so lead on,” she teases, and that’s exactly what we do.
My nervousness evaporates in the excitement of just hanging out with her and sharing all these first-time experiences together-- the fact that it’s all in her head doesn’t seem to matter. We swim in a crystal clear pool near the waterfall that I made sure was warm this time, climb up a rock face that has easy to grip hand and footholds, and then take a zip line through the jungle, which ends near the main area of the resort.
By the time we’re finished, both of us are breathless, and we schlep ourselves in a kind of drunken elation to a small tiki bar that looks out onto the beach. It has a thatch roof and an indoor/outdoor patio with tables and chairs to laze in while taking in the beautiful view.
Callie looks bright-eyed and gorgeous with her hair in a windswept messy bun at the back of her head, held together by a stick skewered through it. She collapses in one of the chairs, smiling and happy, and everything in me wants this to never end. Here I’m real, and she’s safe from all the pain and ugliness that the outside world holds. Kaleb’s warning that spirits can lose themselves in the allure of someone else’s mind echoes like the voice of God.
I know we can’t stay here too much longer, but I’m not quite ready to let her go. There’s a clearing on one side of the patio with an old-fashioned jukebox. I don’t know if there’s one in the actual resort or I just made it up, but as soon as I see it, I know how I’d like this dream excursion to end.
Before I can get too inside my own head and lose my nerve, I imagine music playing, then hold my hand out in an over exaggerated sweep. “May I have this dance?”
“I don’t know how to dance,” she confesses, laughing and shaking her head, but taking my hand anyway.
Tugging her onto the small dance floor, I give her an easy spin, and implore, “Come on. Everyone can at least do the middle school shuffle.”
“The what now?” she chides, standing in the middle of the open space with both hands clasped around mine.
I pull her in close with a teasing smile, then while leading her arms around my neck, I explain, “The middle school shuffle. Where the girl puts her arms around the guy’s neck, the guy awkwardly holds her hips, and then we shuffle in a circle to music. If we want to get advanced, we’ll sway a little while we do it.”
She snickers, her whole body shaking as she presses her face against my shoulder, then wheezes, “I’ve never heard of it. Granted, I never went to a school dance-- middle school or otherwise-- so I guess it’s not too surprising.”
My hands slide from her hips to her lower back, holding her close enough that our bodies barely brush against each other, because when will I get another chance to dance with my literal dream girl. The halter dress she’s wearing feels soft and light underneath my fingers, the heat of her body easily felt through the fabric.
“Are you seriously telling me no one has asked you to a school dance?” I murmur into her hair as we start the swaying circle. Salt has mixed with her normal scent of pomegranate and orchids as if this island has now become a part of her.
