Blank Slate- Recovering Lost Love

What they don't tell you about becoming a witch, is the cost of using magic. When a witch or wizard casts a spell or soars on a broomstick, this requires a withdrawal from their S.S. (Sorcerer’s Sum) account. Much like the way mortals fill up the gas tank of a car, witches must find a way to pay, or they end up walking. 

Fiscal responsibility is not high on the list for the Witches Council; the face of a political leader printed on a crinkled piece of paper in one’s pocket holds little importance. The council sees no value in it, and so they prefer a more personal form of payment.

With magic, one is asking for something from the universe. With magic… there is always something owed. To ask the universe for a rearrangement of the natural order of things is a huge favor, one that a witch cannot expect for free. The bending of time, the resurrection of the dead, or the creation of a portal would require a substantial withdrawal from the S.S. account. 

You might be asking yourself, who has all this power to give? Who decides the cost, especially a cost so subjective, inconsistent, and non-quantifiable? If it were as simple as a dollar amount, anyone could dig through the couch cushions for coins, save their allowance, or scrub pots and pans to pay the price. The GOM, or Grantor of Magic, is chosen by the amorphous powers that be, whether the role was desired or not. The value of the "price" is assigned by the eye of the beholder. He or she who wields this great power is the one who decides what is worth keeping and what belongs rooted in Earth. For Sara Night, her most precious memory was ripped out of the cold, damp, ground.

Like most spells, they leave behind a mystical footprint; this could be in the form of hearing echos, or seeing dark shadows or even glimmers appearing in places without the help of sun or anything to cause eclipse. For Sara, a small tattoo on the side of her wrist stares up at her every time she checks her crystal watch. The tattoo is a sprig of rosemary, a plant mostly associated with remembrance. She knows something is missing, but she has no idea what it could be.

Sara has spent the last two years trying to find out what could be missing from her life. But, after the accident, she’s had other important things on her mind. She and her twin sister, Zaria, were in a horrific car crash. Zaria was driving and Sara was in the back seat. Had they not been transporting a dresser in the back seat of the hatchback with the front passenger seat completely bent forward, Sara would have been seated up front. Zaria suffered from a traumatic brain injury, but it may as well have been Sara. 

“Sara, I’m really fine.” Zaria says as she pops open a can of soda. She’s wearing her new university sweats and packing up the last of her boxes before the two of them head off for their third year of college. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird how we are heading off to school without figuring out what happened to us? You don’t find it at all bizarre that the last thing we remember is you being wheeled in through the emergency room and in the next moment we were home safe on the couch? There's a huge chunk of events missing there! Don't you care about what happened in between?"

Zaria shrugs. “We’re witches, Sara.” The manipulation of time isn’t a perfect science. One of our friends probably went back in time, saved our cute butts, and forgot to wear a bramble branch around her neck before they did it. That’s why we don’t remember a thing.” 

Zaria twirled her index finger in the air to emphasize the point she was making. It was as if to imply that this was an obvious mistake and everyone knows that wearing a bramble branch is used to protect one from the impact of a powerful spell. It’s kind of like when radiologists wear a lead vest to protect themselves as they zap you during an X-Ray. Zaria forgets that not everyone has been studying spells since they could read-she was never supposed to find those spell books in the attic. Not until her full powers came in on her sixteenth birthday. 

Sara rolled her eyes and looked incredulously at her sister, as she haphazardly threw a few more plates and a handful of silverware into the box marked, kitchen junk. 

“Zaria, look at your wrist.” Sara gestured to the identical rosemary sprig, forever in ink on her left wrist. Zaria twisted her wrist back and forth as if she were admiring a stack of bracelets.

“I see it, yes, yes. I like it! Plus it was free, and pain free from what I remember…Or, I guess…don’t remember? Whatever, it’s cool. So. Just. LET. IT. Gooo.” 

Sara knew there was no winning this argument. Zaria could be extremely stubborn when she wanted to be. Besides, it was getting late. Tomorrow they’d start their drive to university at sunrise to avoid the commuter traffic.

Sara slumped her way upstairs, exhausted both physically and emotionally. She opened the door to her bedroom, and looked around at its emptiness. She crawled into bed and plugged her phone in to charge. It didn’t take long before Sara drifted off. Being the twin who holds 98% of each other’s stress is more exhausting than one might think.

Sara and Zaria arrived to their quaint college town of Terra around noon, after a six hour drive. They parked on Calgary Street and walked the familiar path to the two bedroom off-campus apartment they shared. After a quick bowl of cereal, because that’s the only edible item they had in the apartment, the two of them set out to get some provisions. No way they were living off corn flakes like last semester. 

Their apartment was not making the cover of Better Homes, anytime soon. Nor was it supposed to. With its creaky scuffed up floors, yellowing paint-chipped walls, and an ancient heating system that sounded like someone pounding on metal with a hammer, it’s a miracle it wasn’t already condemned. They lived there because it was cheap. It was also walking distance from campus and the center of town.

As they made their way down Chestnut street, about to turn onto Main, Sara glanced up at the Sentelemental Museum. Designed to be a play on words, sentiment and elemental, it was a museum in which the art was to appeal to the five senses as well as the elements of the earth. 

“Something about that building makes me feel so uneasy.” Sara said. She shuddered and wrapped her sweater tightly around her.

“Well maybe if you finally went inside you could shake that feeling. There must be a reason for it. Don’t you want to find out?” Zaria kicked a rock, and looked up at Sara for a response. 

“I don’t know, maybe I should. Maybe you’re right.” Sara said. 

The hair on the back of Sara’s neck and arms suddenly stood on end, and she felt a shock go through her body. 

“Ouch!” She yelped. She looked up and saw a gorgeous woman, probably early twenties, like herself. She was wearing a long black wool coat, her long auburn hair was pulled back into a tight perky ponytail. She looked just as frightened as Sara and had flung her belongings onto the ground. 

“Must have been the static cling from my sweater! I’m so incredibly sorry!” The woman said as she picked up her tiny black purse and novel off the sidewalk. 

“Oh, it okay. It was totally an accident.” Sara said as she picked up the woman's car keys, which were also tossed, a little farther onto the grass, just missing a huge puddle. As she handed the keys to the woman, their hands touched and she felt it, ZAP! Another shock. 

“Oof! Now I’m sorry!” Sara said, sheepishly. Her cheeks were bright red.

“Do you two need a moment alone?” Zaria asked. “I could run a few blocks ahead, or strategically place myself behind a telephone pole.” Zaria smirked. 

Sara looked completely embarrassed and glared at her twin sister.

“Actually this is my stop.” The woman gestured toward the big brick museum building. 

“Oh. You work here? What do you think of the exhibits?” Sara asked, kicking herself internally at such a stupid first question. 

“It's definitely something special.” The woman said. “Would you like to come in for a tour?”

“Hell ye-”

“Actually, we need to get going.” Sara interrupted Zaria’s enthusiasm. “Classes start soon!” Sara said nervously.

Zaria raised her eyebrows in surprise. They both knew classes didn’t start until four. 

“Oh, well, maybe another time.” The woman said. 

“Yeah, definitely.” Sara said shyly. “What did you say your name was? Emily, right?” Sara asked.

The woman’s ears perked up, her face flushed, and a breakout of sweat appeared on her forehead.

“Um, yes. Emily, exactly.” She smiled sweetly at the sisters.

“Well, we’ll see you soon! Nice meeting you!” Zaria said.

Emily waited until the sisters were out of sight before ducking into the museum. She ran upstairs to the closest bathroom and stood hunched over at the sinks. Her breath was ragged as she continued to sweat. 

“I never told them my name. Yet somehow they knew? Somehow Sara knew.” She said to herself. A hopeful smile played across her face. 

She slipped her backpack off of her shoulders, and pulled out a large leather bound book. The inside was hollowed out, and in the center was a CD case. In it, the CD that was blank a year ago, had nearly a dozen songs scribbled onto it with the artist's name noted next to it. A mix CD, the one she had gotten two years ago from her girlfriend. The last one she had gotten from her in a while.

Emily and her girlfriend had communicated through music. They had passed CD’s back and forth since the eleventh grade, it was their love language, as well as a way to prevent arousing parental suspicions. Let’s just, neither of their parents were big supporters since they had come out of the closet. It was a knife that kept twisting every time it was brought up during family discussions. So Emily decided the relationship was best kept a secret. 

Emily took out the booklet insert of the CD, the lyrics booklet was from a Tegan and Sara CD, one of the first CDs they'd traded before they started making their own mixes. Emily used to write love notes in the margins of the song lyrics. The margins had also been blank for the last two years. Until today. 

After that shock Emily had felt outside the museum just moments ago, Emily realized she had a chance of getting her love to return. 

Emily looked down at the margins of the booklet, and saw the glimmer of cursive writing, fading in and out. It didn’t remain permanently on the page, but didn’t disappear entirely, either. Emily was able to make out the last few words at the bottom of the page. It read, I love you, darling- Sara. 

Emily held the booklet close to her chest, a stream of tears soaked her smile. She glanced out the bathroom window and looked up the hill leading to the university’s main academic building. She could make out the vaguest details of two figures walking away, Sara and Zaria. 

“I’ll always find you, my love. Everyday, I’ll find you. Until you make your way back to me. But. For now it has to be this way.” Emily said, with a shaking in her voice.

Emily’s smile faded as she closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply and raised one arm over her head. She swiped her hand in a downward motion over her forehead, her eyes, nose, and mouth, as if she were erasing it all. She grasped onto the bramble branch hanging around her neck, gulping as she held it tightly. Then, she opened her eyes and pointed her finger at the twins. A swirl of champagne bubbles and tiny stars came out of her finger and raced toward them. Emily waited until the magic slurry fully encircled their bodies. Her breath hitched as she whispered something in latin. “Tabula rasa." Blank slate. The forgetting spell. 

“Tomorrow we’ll try again, my darling.” She watched Sara slowly fade into the background. “I’ll remember for us both.”