The Love Spell

Micah sent me the love spell over lunch, between a shareholder meeting and an argument with Dickhead over custody of a Yorkie. It sat unopened in my messages until I collapsed onto my couch, careful not to spill any of my wine. If I did, Preeny would be sure to lick it up and accusations of animal abuse were the last thing I needed. 
I don’t know what I expected. Micah told me their grandmother was well-versed in these things – said she used to make money on the side selling spells to folks who didn’t have any better way out of their predicaments. They were practically shaking with excitement, their lips aquiver in the telling of it. When I asked for a love spell, I was thinking more like Love Potion Number Nine. Not whatever I got.
I sat for a long while nursing my wine and my ruminations. Preeny licked at my heels, impatient to hog my attention, but I kept staring at the words… 

To Attract a Lover Who Will Never Leave You – 
On the night of a full moon, combine a drop of red wine and a drop of menstrual blood. 
Rub mixture onto your lips and visualize your intended as you repeat the following:
‘Lover, I summon thee from the waxing waves, come and desire me for all of my days.’
After speaking the verse, kiss the blade of a dull knife. 
Then, sleep with the knife under your pillow.
When you wake, reap the rewards of your workings.

I read it through at least twice. I laughed the first time, unsure if it was any more than a hackneyed chain email. The second time, my mind began to wander. It was Preeny’s cold nose that pulled me away from my thoughts and convinced me a warm bed was a better consolation than a dry merlot. 

It was a few nights later when the spell entered the conversation again.
“I just don’t understand what’s so scary about a little pegging,” Micah said, intonating their confusion on the word little. 
“Some people are afraid of taking that next step in a relationship,” I offered. “I mean, have you even met his mother yet?”
Micah rolled their eyes at me. “Please. No one busts out their mother before they bust out the strap. What are you, mid-century modern? This isn’t Sunset Bazaar, babe. It’s West Hollywood.”
“Whatever you say. At least you have someone whose mother you can meet. Ugh… I feel like an old maid with just my wine and my dog.”
“There’s no shame in being a bad bitch who calls the shots with her other little bad bitch,” Micah said, petting Preeny. “Besides, didn’t you get what I sent you?”
“What you sent me?” I asked, pretending not to remember.
“The spell, babe. Use it yet?”
“No. I’m… waiting for the right time.”
“Right. Isn’t the next full moon, like, soon-soon?”
I resisted the urge to tell them it was exactly three days away.
Leaning towards me, their eyes were all mischief and magic as they asked: “So, are you going to do it?”
I shrugged off the question, eager to avoid their hungry gaze. It made me anxious.
“Maybe. But, maybe it’s all more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Of course it is,” Micah grinned. “But, isn’t a little trouble worth it when you’re lonely?”

Exactly three days later, the full moon rose and with it came the usual lunacy. That day, it seemed like the entire team took off work. My head ached and my stomach twisted with a familiar, dull pain. I was drowning in paperwork, phone calls, and presentation prep when the text rolled in that started it all. Eight little words broke the dam and sent a flood of insecurity cascading outward.

Dickhead
 Keep the damn dog. You’ll die alone, anyway. 

I barely made it to five, having whittled my fingernails down to the quick. I sat in Friday traffic hyperventilating while the strangers on the bus were none the wiser. I’ve spiraled before, but that night my mind had become an oubliette and I could find no way to climb back out. I didn’t even bother to stop at the BevMo, reckoning magic doesn’t care if you use something fresh. The poorly corked merlot would have to do.
Once in the door, there was no ceremony. No circles were drawn in salt, no prayers said to calm the worries in my head. Preeny even sat silent, watching me with wide eyes. I grabbed the bottle off of the counter and popped the cork, tipping it back and letting some run down my chin as I downed a swig. Satisfied, I capped the opening with my thumb. 
Sat there alone in the dark, I slid my free hand down and down, into my pants and past the zipper. I felt for the warmth and the moisture, knowing well what the pains would bring with them and the stains I would surely have to scrub later. When my fingers emerged, they were red and glistening in the limited light of the street lamps outside.
Tipping the bottle over in my other hand, I felt some wine dribble onto my thumb. Then, I brought it together with my index finger. The smell was acrid and sweet as they mixed. I reached for a cheese knife, abandoned the night before, and I thought that this was the only hard part – the wanting.
Repeating the incantation to myself, I could not think of a face or a name. I thought only of my loneliness, and of how badly I desired the desire. Perhaps that was my mistake. By the time my lips had touched the blade, it was too late.
In the morning, things seemed normal. There were no apologies and no new matches on my phone. The day was quiet. Had I done something wrong? Was the magic even real to begin with? Should I ask Micah? Silly thoughts.
It was at the gym that night that I first noticed it: There were too many eyes on me. It made my bad form worse. At first I thought I was losing my mind… But, when I tried to leave, someone followed me from the leg press all the way to the locker room door. They stalked behind me, closer and closer. It was the good timing of another patron that let me slip past unscathed. I left with my head hidden under a towel.
I stopped at the market on the way home for food. I’m used to being invisible there, just another Angeleno in search of sushi. But, again, every pair of eyes that came near me kept leering like I was another fish on the ice. Even the man behind the counter licked his lips to ask, “Do you always wear those tight pants to do your shopping?”
I stood frozen until he gave me an overt up-down. Then, I grabbed my tray and booked it.
The bus ride home was agony. My heart raced as each new passenger boarded and inched closer. I could feel their eyes on me like blades. Not wanting to pull their attention, I kept quiet when a hand grabbed at my waist and then tried to move lower. I yanked the hanging stopcord and bolted as soon as the wheels screeched their halt. 
Footsteps drummed behind me as I ran. Not once in three blocks did I stop to look back. All I knew was that I audibly Thanked God when I saw a neighbor exiting my front gate as I approached. I jumped through and slammed it shut behind me. A hand grasped onto mine through the metal bars, but they had gone by the time I turned. 
Inside my apartment, I let out a sigh and secured all the locks. I was too exhausted to turn on the lights, so instead I just collapsed onto my bed face-first. I felt the wet kisses of Preeny’s tongue on my ankle and shook her off. When she started again, she was at my calves, licking the sweat off them – slower and more purposefully. I kicked her off once more, not in the mood to budge.
I screamed my frustrations into my pillow. This isn’t what I’d wanted. My hands wrapped around my phone ready to throw it across the room when it buzzed beneath me. The incoming message from Micah read:

Micah
You ok, babe? No response today. Should I come over? –M

I could barely see through the haze of my tears as I stared into the phone. Meanwhile, Preeny started licking again at the exposed skin on my hips. Too panicked to type, I tapped on the screen and waited for the dial tone.
“Micah,” I croaked in anticipation. 
Another screen lit up the darkness seconds later, vibrating the closet walls. I lay there confused until the licking stopped and a hand covered my mouth:
“Shhh, babe… I’m here now, and I’ll never leave.”