Tarrion; n, An odd interval of blankness you feel after something big happens to you but before you feel the resulting emotional reaction – stunned by a sudden loss, a stroke of luck, or an unexpected visitor – like those tension-filled seconds between a flash of lightning and the thunderclap that follows, which gives you a hint of how near you are to the coming storm. – From tarry, to be late to react, or linger in expectation + carry on. Pronounced “tar-ee-uhn.” John Koenig, The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.
Now that she had a better feel for things, apprehension slowly gave way to purpose.
The Buddhists have a saying: Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. Gretchen didn’t think of herself as a Buddhist in particular – she had a very much cafeteria style approach when it came to matters spiritual.
Which is to say in her case, esoteric. One thing she always kept in mind – wisdom is wisdom wherever one finds it and it is a sloppy mind that throws away the metaphysical baby along with the mythological bathwater.
It was time to chop wood and carry water.
After she told Iggy what to bring and where the Uber driver was going to drop him off, she went to the front door and locked it.
Then she went into François’ study, booted up his computer and entered the password. She clicked the icon on his desktop he told her to use only if she was absolutely sure. She didn’t hesitate. It asked a certain question. She laughed.
She typed in, I do and a birthdate.
Her cell phone went off in her pocket. She saw on the screen why.
Full access. To everything. His work. His journal. His money. Everything.
She was overwhelmed. He knew. Of course he fucking knew. For a brief moment, she was pissed. All that time wasted. If he wasn’t already dead she was going to fucking kill him. No. Death was too good for him. She would make him suffer.
In ways he would not mind.
But first, she had her own preparations to make.
She went upstairs to her room. She gathered her items of power – her cloak of defense: A denim jacket, on it a patch sewn with a goat’s needle just above the right pocket, a child’s medal that read “Didn’t stab anyone today!” On the left pocket flap, a pin of a lovely girl in a lavender three quarters face cowl, printed on the forehead of her mask: Be your own Hero. The inside lining had an iron on patch of The Cosmic Rose, in full bloom and full of stars. The back had another iron on patch, of a knight, cloak aswirl, shield up, sword out and pointed down and across. The steps she had taken in making this item were costly both in terms of promises made and sacrifices met.
She went to her closet and took out her “purse” as she liked to call it. It had certain items that could be found in any purse. Lipstick. A brush. Breath mints. It also had a small book with a pen clipped to the back. A feather. A thimble. A small silver bell. Her three most powerful tarot decks. She removed one and put it aside.
Then she went to her lingerie drawer and got her medicine pouch. She unfurled the rug kept under her bed. She sat in lotus. She uncorked a small vial. She drank it. Then she did the rites of preparation. A calm came over her.
She reached into the pouch again and took out all the capsules in the small bottle that read “Papaya extract.” She counted them. There were eleven left. She had a moment’s hesitation. Iggy would need two. She would need six. That left three. She hoped it would be enough.
She changed quickly. She went downstairs and swallowed three of the capsules. But first she took a single grape out of the refrigerator and put it in the glass of water. As she swallowed the capsules, she broke the grape with her front teeth, eating and drinking simultaneously.
She went downstairs to where Rose was “born.” She gathered his emergency bag. She went back upstairs and got the keys to the mini van. She took the removable backrow seats out and after a minute search tossed in a foam camping mattress and a sleeping bag. She loaded the mini van with her items and keyed the security as she backed out of the garage.
It was a twenty minute drive to the Denny’s where she told the Uber driver to bring Iggy.
It was also well past midnight. If she didn’t find him by dawn he would be gone.
She knew it.
She was pretty sure three capsules of her special blend of penis envy mushrooms, lion’s mane, and a certain flower that only grows for a witch that has earned the right wouldn’t kick in before she got to Iggy. But she did also drink the vial. She had been saving it for the right night.
Tonight was definitely it.
I’m coming baby. Hold on.
