Page 81 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

“Did you burn down Asylum Harbor?” Joe asked pointedly.

“Absolutely not!” Howie crossed his heart.

“And you swear you had nothing to do with burning down that club in Rehoboth?”

Howie started to deny it again, but then sighed. “Okay, wemighthave encouraged a Wilmington witch, who allegedly had pyrokinetic abilities, to take revenge on that bigot of a club owner. But I swear we had no idea the witch would choose arson. That’s justsolow-rent. Pah! And to be clear, no one died. We aren’t murderers. Ours is a craft rooted in peace, love, and dancing. We aregenerative, not destructive. By the way, that awful club owner got rich by opening a TGI Fridays in the ashes of the gay club, so everyone lost.”

Joe’s aura had become a murky kaleidoscope of emotion and feeling. “Go ahead,” Howie said. “Ask me anything. It’s okay. I won’t be offended.”

Joe looked up into Howie’s eyes. “So, if I asked you to heal someone who was sick or might get sick, could you do that?”

Howie shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not. We tried. Of course we tried, but we don’t have that power.” Joe furrowed his brow, ready to speak, but then swallowed his words into silence. “What is it?” Howie asked.

“I understand you don’t have the power to heal people, but a few minutes ago you said you knew for certain not everyone who has HIV will die, so …” His eyes grew teary as he struggled to ask the next question. “So, will Fergal be one of those people who will survive?

Howie’s heart broke a little more. “I’m sorry, Joe. I can’t know that.”

“But can you try?” Joe begged. “You said you didn’t always know the power you had. Maybe if you tried—”

“None of us ever had the power to predict life or death, Joe. Not even Max. The Great Goddess Mother doesn’t allow that ability. Even at our full capacity, we’re limited to a handful of powers, like guiding people onto their right path in life or love, inducing healing dreams, intuiting disaster, lending aid to the innocent under threat, and sometimes altering electromagnetic fields and affecting the weather—though that’s very rare and not a hundred percent verifiable. Mostly we spent our time helping young people stay out oftrouble and turning lousy dance parties into the greatest nights of people’s lives. But now we’d be lucky to summon a simple card trick. I will say, my aura reading has been a little sharper of late, but it’s probably sun flares.”

“I see,” Joe scoffed. “So, you used to have magic powers, but you don’t anymore? That’s convenient.”

“Joe, listen. Our sort of magic is never done alone. A certain number of souls are required. Eight years ago, we always had at least thirty-seven Disco Witches on the dance floor at any one time. Then the health crisis began, and suddenly thirty-seven became thirty-one, then twenty-three, then eighteen, then eleven, then eight, and until a year ago we were five. Max, Lenny, Dory, Saint D’Norman, and myself. The despair wounded our ability to dance, but we’ve tried to persist. Now we’ve come to a turning point. The one vital requirement of our practice is the need for a quorum of five members present to convene our holy twirling ceremony. If Max dies, it will be the end of us. We’ve vainly hoped that some previously unknown magical being might appear to restore our ranks, but so far …” A moment of light filled Howie’s eyes. “You haven’t ever noticed that you could predict the future, have you?”

“Nope,” Joe said.

“See colors emanating from people’s bodies?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Good with a Ouija board?’

“Look, I should get going—” Joe began to stand.

“Wait a moment longer,” Howie begged. “I want to tell you something. Sometimes certain loves just aren’t meant to work out in this life. But the only starting place for moving on is acceptance. The universe of love is large, Joe. Trust an old witch on that.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Joe’s eyebrows curled petulantly. His lip fought against quivering. “I’ve only loved two men in my life, and I hurt both so badly that they ended up never wanting to see me again. I’m done.”

“Oh, for Chrissake, Joseph!” Howie slammed the table with the flat of his hand. “Can we please save the flagellation for Lenny’s sex dungeon?” Taking a deep breath, he began again more calmly. “What I mean to say is, just because a relationship ends doesn’tmake it any less important. I encourage you to disabuse yourself of that stupid romantic Hollywood notion. It’s false and limiting. And to be quite honest, I have a strong sense that neither Fergal nor Elliot ever stopped loving you.”

Joe wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and stood up. “I’m gonna head to the Morning Party now.” He crossed to the bureau and pulled a tank top over his head. Then, as he ran a brush through his hair, his eyes caught Howie’s reflection in the mirror. “Since we’re coming clean about who we are, I might as well tell you, I lied to you and Lenny about something else. I’m not really twenty-four.”

“You’re not?” Howie said, grateful that Joe was still talking to him, but feeling overwhelmed by the despairing auric fog that had filled the room. “I sensed there was something else off.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I started lying about my age when I first met Ronnie. He doesn’t even know. I actually turned twenty-nine last March.”

“Twenty-nine?” Howie’s heart filled with a momentary terror.The rubric!

But, he reminded himself again, the chosen one had to meetallfive main prerequisites. And there was no flying heart mole on Joe. He heaved a private sigh of relief and smiled. “Ah yes. That makes such sense. Twenty-nine is your Saturn Returns year. No wonder you’re in a muddle.”

“What’s a Saturn Returns?” Joe asked.

“Oh it’s very impactful and can be wonderful or awful. Every twenty-nine and a half years, Saturn returns to the spot in the sky exactly where it was in the year of your birth. I, myself, am in my second Saturn Returns. No wonder I’ve felt so connected to you. You’ve probably been feeling the effects. The changes to one’s life can be quite significant during our Saturn Returns.”

Joe murmured in agreement as he pulled a black fanny pack from his bottom drawer and snapped it around his waist like a gun belt. The gesture puzzled Howie. Next, Joe picked up Elliot’s empty mixtape case, briefly looked at the handwritten liner notes, and then tossed it in the garbage. “I guess we all lie to ourselves sometimes, right? Don’t wait up for me.” Joe began to descend the ladder.

“Joe, if you could just wait one more—”

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