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Palmenteri arts
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Molly
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A novel
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Helen S.
Palmenteri
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5/1/2014
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Molly is a powerful woman, only she
doesn’t know it yet. Through her study of tarot, she learns about herself
and finds true love, but first becomes victim to a seductive,
ill-intentioned magician.
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She could feel it coming. There would
definitely be thunder tonight, and heavy rain. Used to be, Molly loved
listening to the swollen, steady drops falling on windows, gently knocking on
the roof. Lately, she checked the weather forecast on her iPhone the way a
germiphobe with OCD washed their hands. Greensboro had seen more than its share
of storms this winter, and the old wive's tale had yet to be negated. Thunder
means snow in 10 days. It wasn't the snow that creased her brow; she loved the
quietness that accompanied snowfall and all the storybook details. But not now.
Not tonight.
Molly could feel the migraine looming.
Her neck felt stiff. She was restless and that one spot on the top of her head
was starting to throb. Even if she never checked the weather forecast, she knew
what the weather would be as soon as she woke up in the morning. Headaches
after a fitful sleep meant storms. Depressed upon awakening, undoubtedly the
day would be overcast. If she woke up feeling like an irritable old man, the day
would most definitely be disgustingly humid. Molly wore the weather like
clothing. On mild, sunny days she felt happy and confident. Warm, humid,
overcast days were like wearing pants a size too small while bloated after
a trip to the all you can eat buffet. Yes, tonight there will be rain, and
lots of it.
Normally, Molly's eyes were a delicate, pale
green; the color of sea glass. They swirled with dark gray now, as the storm
approached. She shuffled her deck of tarot cards. She felt a connection to this
deck. The cards depicted delicate paintings based in Celtic mythology. Her
ancestry was Scottish and Welsh. Not long ago, she added a lengthy trip to the
Celtic lands to her bucket list. The well-worn cards slipped easily in her
hands, sliding together to rejoin into one complete stack. She took in a slow,
steady breath and exhaled even more slowly. Her eyes closed with concentration.
She cut the deck into three separate piles and then carefully stacked them back
into a singular pile. She slid the top card off the deck. The Tower card...
"Shit." She took another breath,
drew another card. The Devil. “Are you freaking kidding me?" she
exasperated. She decided against drawing the third card, as was her nightly
ritual. She was teaching herself about tarot, and three cards pulled every
evening was sort of like homework. She had gotten pretty good at the cards, but
was still too shy to read them for anyone else. Anyway, she could see something
was up, but until she felt as though the axe had been removed from the left
side of her skull, an in depth reading would have to wait.
The next morning Molly had a migraine ghost.
That's what she called her migraine hangover. She saw her migraines as a living
thing, and felt their presence even after they had gone. The agenda for the day
involved a lot of number crunching and interest percentage calculations, but
all that could wait while she exorcised her migraine ghost. She decided to
spend the morning at her favorite coffee shop--- locally owned of course. They
sold croissants that literally melt in your mouth. Yes, bread and tea would
settle her stomach from the migraine and anxiety from--- why was she so
anxious? Comfort food and her cards, her medicine of choice.
She tugged on her favorite pair of jeans with
a thick brown leather belt. It was still cold out, so she decided on a long
sleeve tee under her usual graphic tee (today she wore Tony the Tiger). Her
gray Chuck Taylor's completed the look, not that Molly was much into looks
recently. She kept her ash blond hair cropped in a super short pixie cut. As
for make-up, she never did much more than a bit of mascara (only because her
lashes were blond) and some tinted lip balm. She threw on her UNCG hoodie with
the paint stain on the elbow, checked her bag for what she needed, locked the
door behind her and headed to Tate Street on foot.
Even though she was still somewhat groggy, she
kept up a quick pace, her hands balled tightly into the front pocket of her
favorite hoodie. When she exhaled, her breath puffed out like crystalline
pillows in the cold air. The tip of her nose felt the sting of cold and
threatened to drip if the trip lasted much longer. She could already imagine
holding the warm cup of tea in both hands, the cold melting away from each
aching joint. She hurried up the familiar walk. It wasn't a long trek from her
rental to the tiny coffee house. Her nose posed once again the threat of
dripping as she jolted her hand out of her pocket. The warmth of the back of
her hand felt soothing on the tender freezing skin. It didn't surprise
her that her hand was warm, after all it had been in the hoodie pocket. But her
feet were freezing in wool socks and sneakers.
The warm humid air of the cafe pricked
her skin with tiny welcome kisses. She tugged the hood of her sweatshirt off of
her head.
"Morning, Molly."
"Hey, Ben."
Ben had worked at her favorite study spot for
as long as Molly could remember. His hair was always a mess and he wore hipster
glasses. "The usual? Green tea with mint and honey?"
"Uh, no, I think I'd like the Orange
spice and a croissant today. Room for milk. Can you heat the croissant?"
She fumbled through her bag looking for her wallet.
"Gladly. Have a seat and I will bring it
over. We're slow today."
"Thanks," she half mumbled as she
dropped some change into the tip jar next to a small plaque stating, "Be
the change..." Molly thought it was witty, if a bit cheesy.
He sat at a small corner table. He had a
perfect view from where he sat sipping his coffee and pretending to read on his
E-reader. It was darker in this corner, and that is exactly what the man
needed. He was not ready for her to notice him, not yet. He had been coming
here for weeks, learning her patterns. He knew exactly when she would arrive,
how long she would stay and what she ordered. As he predicted, she was wearing
that damn ugly sweatshirt. It didn't really matter. He knew what she was, even
if she didn't, and when the time was right he would make his move.
Molly spent at least an hour taking notes on
The Tower card. She had three different books she was burrowing through. Each
one had some similarity to the others, but there were still details she felt
were missing. Her head started to get fuzzy with it all, so she decided to
clear her mind a bit, maybe head home to paint some. She felt weird, like
someone was watching her. She drifted her eyes lazily around the coffee shop, trying
not to look suspicious. Out of her peripheral, she noticed movement. She turned
towards the counter and saw Ben whipping up some sort of latte. She decided she
was just being crazy and packed up her cards. She carried her tea cup and plate
back to counter. She was just about to leave when Ben told her to wait.
"I thought you might like this. The
lady from the shop on the corner brought it by. Seemed like your kind of
deal." He handed her a flyer on pale pink paper.
"Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow." Molly
folded the flyer and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans, and slid her
hood back over her head.
When Molly got back to her one room studio
apartment, she dropped her bag on the small table that she used for studying,
drawing, paying bills, and vary rarely- eating. She plopped down on her futon
and kicked off her Chucks. She stared at her easel. She should be painting, or
at least sketching. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. She looked down
at her unpolished fingernails. They were clean. She used to be so proud of her
paint stained cuticle and her knuckles turned gray by charcoal. That was when
she had been so sure of everything. That was before her whole world went cold.
But now, she was afraid. Molly was afraid to make her art. What if she couldn't
do it anymore? She doubted everything she thought she once knew. Though, in
complete honesty, she knew if she started making art again, the flood gates
could open, and quite possibly she would lose her mind. She would have to face
her life without Phillip.
"Screw it. I am taking a nap," she
murmured to herself and plopped her head down on her pillow.
She was so happy. Everything had gone
according to her plan. Molly placed a gardenia on the side of her hair with a
bobby pin. She looked herself over in the mirror and smoothed her hands over
her off white satin gown. She picked up her bouquet. It was time. She opened
the large wooden door and stepped into a crowd. She walked barefoot through the
center of the large group of people. She heard people whispering, "That
poor girl. I guess no one cared enough to tell her." The crowd parted and
there was Phillip. He was so handsome, smiling. But his smile turned into a
sneer and he started laughing. He reached out his hand and a woman took it. He
pulled her close and kissed her. A loud, echoing voice boomed over the crowd,
"MAN AND WIFE!" Molly looked to her right and older women with ugly
hats and too much mascara started shaking their heads in pity. To her left, she
saw all of her old friends, pointing and laughing at her. She had to get out if
here. She had to run, far, far away from this. But the door? Where was the
door? It was gone. There was a window. She ran over to the window and leaned
over to see how far she would have to jump. It was so far down! It must be
hundreds of feet! And then the lightening started, striking all around the
tower. She had to get out of here! Then she felt a shift under her feet. She
leaned out the window and saw the base of the tower was crumbling. Oh my god!
She couldn't breathe! She turned to the crowd, but everyone was gone. She was
all alone and the world burst into flame.
Molly jolted upright, frantically
looking around to make sure she was home. Odd, though. Her window was open. She
dashed over to it, stuck her head outside to check for trouble. Nothing to see
but the recycling can. She could have sworn she locked it, as a matter-of-fact,
she only ever opened it when she was using oil paints, and that had been weeks.
She was always sure to lock up as well. Her cell phone buzzed inside her bag.
Pulling it out, she felt relief when she saw the caller id.
“Hey, Todd.” Todd and his husband Dani were her best
friends and “adopted” family in Greensboro.
“Molly Hannah Harford, I have not
heard from you in three days. THREE DAYS!”
“I know; I’m sorry. I’ve been
having migraines again. How are you? How’s Dani?”
“We are picking you up at four.
Fajitas for dinner and then our Sunday evening shows are on. James is coming,
too. He has a new job and we are celebrating!”
“Oh, wow. I completely forgot what
day it was! That is great for James. Can I bring anything?”
“No need to bring anything, but you
can tell me what is wrong. I can hear it all over your face.” Todd had his own
way to turn a phrase, and he knew Molly much better than she did.
“Just woke up—bad dream. I was
dreaming about Phil-“
“UH UH! We put a moratorium on the
P word, remember?”
Molly grinned. “You’re right. I’ll
see you at four.” She was already feeling better.
Dani and Todd’s kitchen smelled
heavenly. Fajitas were one of Molly’s favorite dishes. They stood around the
kitchen drinking their various cocktails and laughing. She loved the way their
home felt. It was warm, happy and filled with so much love. It was so sweet the
way Dani and Todd were with each other. Todd at the stove and Dani chopping
peppers, they could communicate with just a glance, or a gentle hand on the
arm. Molly was a bit envious, but her love for them was more powerful. Best of all, they knew all her secrets and
still loved her.
“Hey, James, I got this flyer today
from the coffee shop. Do you know anything about this?” She handed him the pale
pink paper. James, who stood nearly a foot taller than Molly, was a witch, so
she trusted his judgment on all things “New Agey”. He studied the flyer.
“Oh, an intro meditation class!
It’s taught by Sierra. She is amazing, totally legit. You should definitely go.
It’s Wednesday night. I can go with if you like. I’d love to see Sierra.”
Before heading to the meditation
class, Molly decided to spend some time at the coffee shop. It would be dark soon. Cars were beginning to
turn on their headlights. Though the trees were still bare from winter, Molly
was glad they lined the walk from her place to Tate Street, otherwise she would
have been blinded in her westerly walk. Over the peaks of housetops and through
the black tangles of branches, the sky grew a dark pink. “Red skies at night a
sailor’s delight…” she thought. It had been a clear day and somewhat mild for
late February. It wasn’t quite warm enough for yellow bells, but too warm for
frost. Molly felt great. She took a deep breath in through her nose and felt
the cool slide through her body. She had some distance from the nightmare she’d
had on Sunday. Dinner with Todd and the
boys had lifted her spirits, and she was actually looking forward to this
mediation class. She noticed a long-haired calico perched on a window sill in
one of the refurbished Victorian homes of the Historic district. As she passed,
he stood up on his perch and rubbed against the window pane. Molly thought of
how nice it would be to come home to a pet. She would love to have a kitten.
She could imagine the sweet face of a kitten, purring as it snuggled her.
He’d been waiting to see if she
would stop in for tea. He sat in his shady corner, sipping on a lukewarm
macchiato when she finally showed up. He was starting to feel excitement when
he saw her. It was time. He had to have her. He needed to be seen by her. He
wanted to consume her and her power. She had magic and he could almost taste
it- taste her. Yes, soon. Very soon.
The shop, Serendipitous, looked busy. Molly perused the tiny shop. She had
never been here before, but had passed it many times. The walls were painted in
a warm shade of mulberry. Trinkets, books and statuary perched on polished
wooden shelves. Uniquely designed light catchers of dichroic glass and crystal
beads hung in the window. By the register, glass displays held ring cases, a
few ornate bangles and cuffs, and small daggers with obviously hand carved
hilts. An incense burner, hosting a cone of Nag Champa trickled the sweet,
musky smell in a thin curl of lavender smoke.
A turnstile shelf in the center of the room, displayed tarot
decks---more variety than Molly had ever seen! She gingerly plucked one box
after the other, reading the back, placing it gently on the shelf and picking
up the next in turn.
“Do you read the cards?” asked a
low, female voice. Molly, startled, spun around and nearly dropped the box she
was holding.
“Oh, um, no...I mean a little. I’m
not very good. I’m trying to teach myself. Do you?”
The woman chuckled, a slight purse
in her cupid bow lips. She was shorter than Molly, with dark brown curly hair,
coiffed neatly in an inverted bob. She had warm brown eyes, the upper lids “cat
eye” lined below a shimmer of bright purple glitter. Her skin had the healthy
glow of mid-summer even in late winter.
“So sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Pumpkin! I am Sierra.”
“Sierra? So, you are teaching the
meditation class?”
“Indeed I am. You asked about
reading the cards. I read them professionally, here at the shop, Tuesdays and
Sundays, and occasionally by appointment. What is your name, Sweetness?”
“Duh, sorry. I’m Molly. I signed up
to take your class tonight, with James—oh there he is!” Molly waved to James,
catching his eye.
“Hello, little princesses!” James
placed an arm around each of the ladies, in a greeting hug.
“Now, James. You know better than
that!” laughed Sierra. “I am no princess. I am the QUEEN!” She hugged him back.
The meditation class was held in a
room up the stairs from the shop. Unlike the earthy colors of the shop, this
room was very Spartan. Thin mats lined against one wall, soft glowing sconces
on the walls, and wide windows with cream colored shades, pulled all the way
down. Sierra sat on her mat at the front of the room, a small silver hand bell
at her side and a broad white pillar candle flickered in front of her. She had
removed her shoes, revealing deep purple manicured toes.
Molly and James chose their mats
and spots close to the front. Molly wasn’t a front-of-the-class kind of person,
but James insisted. Other students filed in quickly. She nervously scanned the attendants as they
entered the small space. A sudden anxious energy started to build in her belly
and make her cheeks grow hot. James
turned to her, “Don’t be nervous little one! Just relax, enjoy this. It will be
fun.”
Sierra rang the bell with a quick
flick of her bangled wrist. The tinging echoed as the crowd grew very quiet. “Tonight,
we will learn how to begin the journey of meditation. It is called a journey and not a practice
because it is ever-evolving. You will not have the exact same experience each
and every time you meditate, but your meditative abilities will grow the more
you do it. No two of you here tonight will have the same experience. We will
begin by learning a technique to prepare your mind for the journey by entering
what is known as the alpha state. Alpha state refers to a more relaxed brain
wave frequency than we are in during normal waking activities.
After we enter the Alpha state, you
will build a mental image of your place of peace. This is what some people
jokingly refer to as the ‘happy place’. Get comfortable. You do not want to be distracted
by any physical sensations.”
Molly found herself at the bottom
of a stairwell. In front of her, a gray metal door. She grasped the cold metal
handle of the door and pushed down. A soft, sweetly fragrant breeze brushed
against her skin and gently sifted through the skirt of her long gauzy dress.
She stepped out and the door closed behind her. She found herself standing at
the base of a massive, flowering tree. The tree stood alone in the middle of a
glade. The bark of the tree felt rough as she trailed her hand along the
massive trunk. Her bare feet felt welcome in the cool, dark umber soil
surrounding the generous roots holding the tree to its earthly foundation.
Stepping out from the shade of its considerable branches, the sun felt warm and
comforting on her bare shoulders. In the midst of the verdant meadow, she
glimpsed a flickering of white. She stepped gently among the clover and grass
until she saw a small white feather lilting softly with the breeze. Molly
picked up the feather with her left hand and placed it in the palm of her right
hand, closing her fingers over it, so as to keep it from floating away.
“Ting. Ting. Ting.”
Molly opened her eyes and was back
in the meditation room above Serendipity. Opening her right hand, she saw the
feather. Clenching her fist, she shoved her hand and the feather, into her
jeans pocket.
He smirked. He had been watching
her, of course, instead of joining in the class activities. She had brought
something back with her. Oh, this was going to be fun. His skin prickled with excitement.
Her power added to his power meant he would be unstoppable. He could have
anything, do anything. All he needed was a puppet to play with.
