Hmm.
UP.The word echoes louder in my mind, my teeth aching as I clench my jaw, but all I can hear is Lucky’s breathing and the distant sound of a bus stopping down the street.
I feel his whisper hit my cheek.“Deep breath.Relax.That’s it.”He smells like leather and shaving cream.“Now, picture it in your mind.”
Rather than imagining the can lifting on its own, I change directions and instead picture myself picking it up, raising it in the air.It’s not light, spilling over with leftovers the restaurant couldn’t keep.The tingles move up my arms, sparking lightly where Lucky’s fingers rest on my elbows, before concentrating in my biceps.
Metal scrapes against the pavement in a screech.
Did I just …
“You’re a natural,” comes Lucky’s voice, setting off fireworks under my ribs, and I open my eyes to see the trash can hovering a foot off the ground.
Holy shit!
For a second, my grip slips, and an empty Styrofoam box falls to the ground as the can tips on its side, but I quickly right it.
Then, all at once, it’s easy.The box hovers, frozen in the air between us.
Giddiness bursts between my ribs.What else can I do?
Keeping my gaze on the can, I shift focus to the box that fell out, imagining the feel of the foam, the lightness of its shape in my hands, until, in my peripheral vision, I see it float up beside the trash and settle to the top.
“Show-off,” Lucky jokes, his voice light.“What else have you got?”
Remembering the way the alley shifted before, I extend my mind out, reaching and touching everything I can see in front of me.With a deep breath, I lift.
It doesn’t happen straightaway, but after a few pounding beats of my heart, half of the disposals start to rise up off the ground.
“What the hell?”someone shouts in the distance, shattering my concentration and slamming everything back down to earth.
Lucky’s grip tightens.Between blinks, the world condenses and swells, and all of a sudden, the street is gone, replaced by a black leather couch and a bright red electric guitar mounted onto the brick wall.Light streams in from floor-to-ceiling windows, pooling at our feet in a puddle of heat, like a cat purring in greeting.
I swallow hard, trying to shift my stomach down from where it lodged itself in my throat.
“Next time,” I choke out, “warn me first.”I think I might have left my kidney back there.
“Sorry, love.Just wanted to bring us somewhere safe.”
I throw myself on his couch, desperately trying to wrangle my wild heart under control.“Got a beer?”
I’d prefer vodka, but there’s a better chance Lucky has a case on hand.
I’m right, of course, but when I go for the bottle, he puts it out of my reach, knocking my hand away when I sit forward to grab it.
“Nuh-uh.You need the practice.”
With a groan, I know he’s right.I just hope he’s ready to lose a lot of beer.
* * *
Two spilled bottles and a broken lamp later, I can successfully move an object from the coffee table to my waiting hand.It’s not perfect, but I’m getting better.
Between blinks, Lucky appears in the kitchen and then the living room.He’ll forget how to walk at this rate.“Picking pockets would have been a breeze with this.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.“Chores certainly would have been easier if I could have done them all while sitting down.”I stifle a laugh, thinking about how my uncle’s old hen Mabel would have taken to watching her eggs float out of the coop.
“Nah,” Lucky corrects, escalating the test by replacing the pen with his half-finished tea.“You don’t strike me as the type to like sitting too long.”
