Eight – Cally
“I got you one of those raspberry pastries.”
Cally set the tray down on their table, careful not to spill the lattes. No waitress today, but the queue at the counter had been short.
“I love these things,” Eve said, taking the plate before the tray had even come to a complete rest. “My one indulgence in life.”
“Uh-huh? What about the tubs of Ben & Jerry’s? The legal weed vape pens? The sorrowful number of wine bottles going in full and coming out empty?”
“Those are necessities, not indulgences.”
Cally dropped into the seat opposite her. “That actually makes a lot of sense. I’ve been looking at it all wrong.”
“So,” Eve said, licking powdered sugar off her fingertips. “Are you pregnant?”
Cally stared at her in disbelief, almost spilling the latte she’d picked up. “What?”
“You sounded serious in your text messages.”
Her disbelief shifted to bewilderment. “How did you get that from ‘let’s do coffee’ and an emoji?”
“It’s Monday,” Eve replied simply. “We never do coffee on a Monday.” She took a bite of flaky filo pastry with macerated raspberry, and spoke around it. “Figured you were pregnant.”
“We met like three days ago, and you asked me then too. Funnily enough, still not pregnant.”
“Oh yeah, forgot.” Eve offered a ditzy smile, all the more frustrating because Cally knew how intelligent she really was. “So, what’s so serious that we’re ‘working from home’ here this morning?”
Cally winced. Why had she decided to have this conversation at their favorite hipster coffee shop? She glanced at the couple next to them. The gaps between tables were so small, they were practically sitting side-by-side.
But she’d spent the entire previous day obsessing over the vision—howvivid, how real it had felt, and the presence that lingered behind the doors. What would have happened if Eve hadn’t woken her when she did?
Eve took a slurp of her latte while she waited for Cally to reply, washing down the last of the pastry that had disappeared in record time. How she never seemed to put on weight, Cally didn’t know.
“Well,” Cally began hesitantly, “the, uh”—she looked again at the couple beside them, and lowered her voice further—“stuffwe do at Zara’s.”
“Mmm hmm?” Eve was trying to lick latte foam off her top lip, going slightly cross-eyed in the process.
Cally stared at her friend, then shook her head in mock despair. “Would you like a tissue?”
“No, I’m good. You were saying?”
“Um, yeah. So the stuff we do. If… um.”This is a ridiculous conversation. What was I thinking?She took another sip of coffee, eyes darting to the window, hoping Eve was too foam-distracted to have really been listening.
“If what?”
Damn.“Don’t worry.”
“No, go on. You can ask me, right?” Eve gave her doe eyes, the kind that said,you’re-not-about-to-forget-who-your-best-friend-is-are-you?
Cally winced, deciding it was best to get it out there. “All right. Say one of usdidhave somestuffwithin them. Is that like… Does it come from”—another glance to her left, and she mouthed the word ‘spells’—“or is it inherited?”
“Stuff as in”—Eve joined in, mouthing ‘magic’—“stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean, is the magic that powers our spells in your blood?”
Cally leaned forward urgently, hissing, “Eve!”