Witchy Woman

“You’re going to have to adjust your requirements if we’re ever going to find someone,” Carmichael said. He and Tanya had gone through almost 5 candidates this week alone, and frankly, he was about at his wits end. It seemed like no one was going to meet her impossible standards, and the end of the month was coming too soon.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault that all the people who responded to your Craigslist ad have been creeps. Which, by the way, who the hell uses Craigslist anymore? This is honestly your fault.” Tanya said as she pinched her nose and doused the folding chair with disinfectant.

Carmichael was offended, “there is nothing wrong with Craigslist, lots of people have used Craigslist. It’s a valid website and it’s not exactly like I can just stand on the corner with a sign. What else do you expect me to do?”

Tanya ignored his obvious bid for an argument and instead walked into the kitchen to put away the disinfectant.

“How many more do we have tonight?”

He looked down at the paper. It held 12 hastily scribbled names, all violently slashed with red, save one at the bottom.

“Just one, ummm Vielp”

Tanya turned back toward the living room, “Vielp? What do you mean Vielp? I didn’t write any Vielp”

Carmichael threw up his hands and slid the list across the table toward her.

“It says Vielp, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Tanya picked up the paper and squinted down at the list of names. Her eyes rolled back as she resisted the urge to knock off his ridiculously large cowboy hat. She scoffed and handed the sheet back to him.

“It says Viola, dude.”

Carmichael squinted at the paper, holding it close to his face and then bringing it further away, as if that would somehow magically bring the words into focus. When that failed, he tossed the paper back onto the table.

“It’s not my fault that you have the handwriting of a toddler.”

Tanya groaned as she scrubbed at the putrid lawn chair, “it has nothing to do with my handwriting, you ass.”

Carmichael huffed, “well it can’t possible help.”

Tanya sighed and threw the rag into the kitchen.

“It would be my luck to find the only dyslexic vampire in New York” she scoffed, “anyway, VIOLA is supposed to be here in the next few minutes; so, get off your ass and go get the vacuum and help me get the pieces of Zombie out of the carpet from the last guy.”

Carmichael was just finishing vacuuming, when he heard footsteps down the hall. The person turned down their walkway, stepped promptly to the door, paused for a moment, and then knocked three quick times in the center.

“Tanya, they’re here,” he said as he wound the cord up around the vacuum’s handle.

Tanya finished washing her hands and grabbed a rag (a clean Zombie-free one) to dry them off.

“Tanya, can you get the door?”

“Give me a single damn second to get across the room, Carmichael.” Tanya muttered as she stomped to let in the stranger, better known as “Vielp.”

Behind the door stood a very tall, ample figured black woman. Tanya thought she smelled inherently of warm earth and cinnamon; it was a very pleasant smell. She wore a royal purple maxi dress with a halter neckline and slung over her shoulder was a colorful bag made of quilt stitched fabrics. Her braids were bound loosely together by an old scrunchie and rested comfortably down her neck and toward her waist. In keeping with the royal theme, she had selected thick gold hoop earrings, a matching chain that hung against her collarbone, and a number of bangle bracelets on her wrists. Her lips were painted a dramatic red and shined like rubies against her umber skin.

“Hello, my name is Viola, I’m here regarding your available room.”

Tanya stood there for a moment frozen, looking up at the woman that loomed over her.

Viola glanced up at the door number, “this is 327, you posted an ad on Craigslist, yes?”

Tanya shook her head, trying to shake the daze out.

“Oh, my apologies,” Viola said as she turned to leave.

“No, wait!” Tanya called after her, “yes, we did post the ad, I’m sorry my brain just sortof… froze up on me.”

Viola paused. She looked back and considered the small woman standing in the 327 doorway, glancing at her up and down. It made Tanya feel even shorter. After a moment’s thought, Viola nodded and turned back around. What was the worst that could happen?

“My name is Tanya, and this is Carmichael. He’s the one who placed the ad, so if there were any problems, they’re his fault.” Tanya laughed, trying to lighten the situation.

Viola nodded again, “there were typos.”

Tanya fought to choke her laughter down as Carmichael came back into the room. He was less than impressed by her efforts. He and Tanya sat in the two lawn chairs furthest from the door, before realizing they hadn’t pulled out their extra seat for their guest.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carmichael said as he went to stand.

Viola held up her hand, “No, don’t worry.”

She hooked her finger, and drawing it back through the air, brought the chair from under the table.

Tanya’s head cocked to the side as her eyebrows rose so high, they threatened her hairline. Suddenly, the scent of earth and herbs made sense. Carmichael had neglected to mention that their interviewee was a witch. They weren’t commonly found in New York City. Too much cement. Glancing over at his face, she wasn’t sure if it had been intentional or if he hadn’t known either. His expression was blank, empty like he had no thoughts. In reality, Carmichael had known that the woman sitting down across from them would be a witch. Despite his “typos,” Carmichael emailed all of the candidates beforehand to make sure that no humans could oopsie daisy their way into the apartment. The corner of his lip twitched as he watched Tanya try to process what had just happened. That would show her for making fun of him.

They all sat in the awkward silence for a moment. Tanya unsure of what to say, Carmichael relishing in her discomfort, and Viola considering just how badly she needed a place to stay.

Finally, Tanya snapped out of her embarrassment, mostly.

“So,” she blurted out, “are you from New York?”

Viola turned to face her more directly, “No.”

Tanya and Carmichael waited for her to clarify and explain where it was in fact that she had moved from, but the only thing that became clear was that no explanation would be offered.

“So…where are you from then?” Carmichael asked.

In a flat tone of voice, Viola simply said, “the South.”

He nodded. It was clear that would be all she had to say about that.

Tanya cleared her throat and glanced at the notes she had written earlier.

“So, Carmichael said that you have a steady income, can you tell us what it is that you do?”

Viola gazed at them both, eyeing one and then the other.

“No, but I can tell you that I have a stable flow of money, and that I have never been late on a bill.” She said, her voice sounded like thick honey.

Tanya sat there for a moment before she began to laugh, “you can’t tell us where you’re from or what you do. What, are you a spy or something?”

Viola smirked, “or something.”

Carmichael laughed and fiddled with the bill of his hat. He always wore his good hat when he wanted to make an impression, although he got the sense here that it wasn’t nearly as impressive this time as he wanted to be.

“Do you consider yourself to be a clean person?” he asked.

Viola laughed, revealing two rows of beaming white teeth that seemed to sing- we’ve never had so much as a single cavity.

She nodded, “yes, I am a very clean person. I can’t stand mess.”

“That’s good,” he said.

Tanya felt there was more of a twang in his voice than there was at the start of the conversation. Was he really trying to put on a show to impress this woman? She flared her nostrils in disgust and rolled her eyes. She literally had to bully him into cleaning up pieces of zombie where this woman’s feet were resting not ten minutes ago.

As if she had heard her thoughts, Viola picked up her feet and looked under the table. Tanya thought it was eerie. Viola’s braids slid down from her neck and nearly brushed the floor. She glanced up and caught Tanya’s eyes. They both froze there for a moment, trying to get a read on the other one. Tanya so cautious and distrusting, and Viola, so mysterious and self-assured.

“We have another roommate, sortof,” Carmichael said, his Western accent coming out of both barrels now.

Viola sat back up, her feet resting lightly above the floor.

“What do you mean sort of?” She asked.

Carmichael tossed his head from side to side.

“Well, he sorta comes and goes. Fades in and out if ya’know what I mean.”

Viola did not know what he meant and was not sure how she could’ve.

Tanya took this time to get back to their scripted questions: “So, Viola, do you have any furniture that you would be bringing in?”

“Yes, I have a green chair and an ottoman that I sit in, as well as a full bedroom set, and various plants that I would be moving in myself,” she said.

Tanya nodded, and pretended to hurriedly write down her answers, when really, she was scribbling a note to Carmichael that said: I don’t trust her.

She tilted the paper toward him to catch his attention. It did not work. He was too busy trying to dazzle the witch.

“So, you like plants? What kind of plants do plan on bringing?”

Viola sat with a bemused grin drawing up her cheeks. While she explained the various types of plants she owned, Tanya sat trying new ways to catch Carmichael’s attention. Until,

“I’m sorry, but she is clearly trying to get you to look at the paper in her hands.”

Viola gestured to Tanya, who by this point was pretending to yawn and holding the paper almost directly in front of Carmichael’s face.

“Oh,” he said grabbing the paper out of her hand.

Tanya felt her cheeks flush red. This was almost as embarrassing as high school. She rubbed her brow and turned to see Carmichael squinting at the paper, holding it less than an inch from his nose. Tanya’s eyes rolled back so far, they shut. She was just getting ready to thank the living stature across from her for her time, when all of a sudden, she heard:

“Oh, great! So, when can you move in?”

Tanya’s eyes shot open as she spun toward him. That was NOT what she had written. Why was that what he was saying? She darted a glance at Viola. The bemused grin had turned into a full smile that pulled at the corners of her eyes. How had she done this? Had she warped his mind to agreeing to let her stay here? Carmichael’s dumb grin beamed as he stood and reached across the table to shake her hand.

“Welcome to 327, roomie,” he said.

Viola stood up, pushing the armrests of the seat down to release her full frame.

She took his hand in hers and shook, then turned to Tanya. Tanya did not offer her hand. Viola took her hand back and pushed her bag behind her.

“I’ll be back in the morning with some of my things, it was nice to meet you both.”

And with that, she left and shut the door behind her.

Carmichael took off his hat and looked down to find Tanya glaring up at him.

“What?”

She pushed out of her chair so abruptly it folded in on itself and clattered against the floor.

“What? What do you mean what? I told you I did NOT want her living here!” She seethed.

Carmichael’s brows furrowed in a deep look of confusion that Tanya had grown quite accustomed to.

“What are you talking about?”

Tanya snatched the paper off of the table, “this! This is what I’m talking about you nitwit!”

Carmichael took the paper from her hands and held it out in front of him. First close to his face, then further away, then close again.

“OH MY GOD, MAN,” Tanya shouted.

Carmichael’s cheeks turned into tomatoes as he crumpled up the paper in his hands.

“CAN YOU JUST NOT READ IT?”

“STOP YELLING AT ME JUST BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO CHICKEN SHIT TO SAY NO.” He bellowed down.

Tanya started to pace the room, wearing a groove into the floor.

“I don’t understand why you’re so against this woman anyway. She was perfectly nice.”

Tanya froze and turned to him, “perfectly nice?”

Carmichael refused to look at her and started to fold up the table.

“Yes, she was perfectly nice,” he said.

Tanya felt like she was about to scream, or howl, or both.

“I don’t think she could say more than 10 words at any given moment! She wouldn’t tell us where she was from, or what she did, and now that I think of it, I don’t even think she told us her last name, Carmichael!”

Carmichael rolled his eyes and carried the table into the kitchen.

“Okay, and? She has a steady income, her own furniture, and she’s clean.”

“But how do we know any of that? Huh?” Tanya asked, as she resumed pacing.

Carmichael sighed and set down the table against the wall.

“Her clothes are nice, not expensive, but they’re still nice. Her jewelry? I know you know that was real gold and that IS expensive. Steady income. She smelled like cinnamon, her hair was well kept, and her clothes were free of dirt and stains. Clean. And I don’t know anyone who would lie about having a chair or plants.”

Tanya chewed on her thumb nail. It wasn’t often that Carmichael had points or was the more reasonable of the two of them. At least, she didn’t feel like it was often.

“Listen dude, I know you’re freaked out about someone coming to live with us, but we’re both broke, and we honestly need her more than she needs us. We’re just lucky she doesn’t realize it.”

He was right. Between the two of them, they had a little over half a job and the funds to match. That didn’t change how uneasy Tanya was about the situation. She had looked into that woman’s face and had no way of knowing what was behind the mask. Viola was a stranger in all possible sense of the word, and she seemed intent on keeping it that way. That just didn’t sit well with Tanya.

“Now calm down, or you’re going to force a turn and ruin our carpet,” he said as he sat back down in his chair.

Tanya nodded and went to her room to grab her jacket.

“Where are you going?” He called out.

“You’re right, I need to calm down,” she said grabbing her keys from the wall hook, “I’m going to go out for a walk and cool off.”

Viola could smell the rain in the air. It had come down fairly heavy last night, and most of everyone in the city had though the storm had come and gone, but she knew there was still some left in the clouds. Stepping out of the apartment building, she pulled her umbrella out of her bag. If someone had really paid attention to her, they’d have wondered what magic she could have possibly used to fit such a large umbrella into a bag of her size. But despite her beauty and size, people didn’t notice much of anything when Viola was around. That was the magic.

She was pleasantly surprised that she had gotten the apartment. The man hadn’t been a problem, albeit he seemed to feel more highly of himself and his twelve-gallon hat than he should. The girl though, she wouldn’t have eaten a plate of food if she’d watched Viola harvest, clean, and cook it from start to finish. She was a funny little thing, writing her note and waving it around in the air to get his attention. New York was filled with funny little people like that, she’d noticed. People so worried about wrongdoing that they couldn’t spare a smile, lest it get stolen along with their watch.

Viola felt a tingle run down her spine as the wind blew. She stopped for a moment and turned around. Nothing to see but a hopeful taxicab behind her and some overturned trash cans. She sniffed the breeze and smiled. Rain was indeed on the way. Resuming her walk, she carried on with her thoughts regarding the oddities of the great city of New York. The way that people had bulldozed the land to erect monuments of brick and steel, only to ignore them and long for the countryside. They had built skyscrapers just to stare at the ground. But in the end, when she and everyone else were long gone, the Earth would reclaim it all.

As she neared the end of the block, a familiar smell danced its way in front of her. Viola scrunched her nose up and tightened her grip on her umbrella. Continuing as though nothing were wrong, she rounded the corner and looked for someplace to hide. Shortly down the way, she noticed a narrow alley to the right. She ducked inside and without taking her eyes off the sidewalk, reached deep into her bag, and grabbed two small satin pouches. Just as Viola had gotten herself hidden, a small girl in gym shorts and a jacket with the hood pulled up rounded the corner behind her. She walked up to the alley and froze, sniffing the air around her. As she turned toward the alley to follow, she was met with a thick cloud of bitter dust.

Viola grabbed her arm and yanked the girl into the alley. She fell against the trashcans and landed in a slump, while her body wracked and heaved. She was coughing so hard it felt like her stomach and lungs were going to be sucked into her throat. Viola rolled the girl onto her back and crouched over her, trying to pry open her mouth like one would a dog.

She grit her teeth and yelled, “Open your damn mouth!”

Finally, Viola managed to work open her mouth, and poured the contents of the second bag down in. She clamped the girls mouth shut with her hand, and held it shut while the medicine slid down until the coughing subsided.

“What… what the fuck was that?” Tanya asked, still struggling to breathe.

“Monkshood,” Viola said as she wiped her hands on her bag and stepped to the side.

Tanya just stared up at her.

“Wolfsbane, it’s Wolfsbane.”

Tanya’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, “you… you threw poison… in my face?”

Viola shrugged her shoulders and offered Tanya a hand up.

“No, I blew poison in your face, it’s slightly different.”

Tanya stared at Viola’s hand in bewildered awe as she said, “you just tried to kill me… and you expect me to take your hand.”

Viola grew very serious. She crouched low and leaned in close to Tanya’s face as she began to speak, “let me be clear, if I had wanted you dead, you would be dead. And if it weren’t for me pouring antidote down your throat, you would be.”

Tanya’s jaw clenched and her nostrils flared. Red hot anger pushed through her veins, and she could feel that all familiar heat rising in her throat. Much to her surprise though, nothing followed. Viola smirked

“You’re thinking about turning now, aren’t you? Well, that’s why you got a bolt of Monkshood to the face. Can’t do much of that when you’ve got that much Wolfsbane running through you. Don’t worry, it’ll work itself out in a few days.”

It wasn’t anything personal, she would’ve poisoned anyone that had been stalking her. Viola offered her hand to Tanya again. Tanya shoved her hand away, and used the trashcans beside her to push up from the ground

“How’d you… How’d you know I was coming.”

Viola put her pouches back into her bag, “because,” she said, “you smell like wet dog.”

Tanya looked up at her, awestruck.

“I smell like wet dog?”

Viola nodded, “yes.”

Tanya wasn’t sure whether she felt hurt or embarrassed. Probably a mix of both, Viola thought.

“Why were you following me?”

Tanya thought of a way to respond that didn’t make her sound insane, but unfortunately came up very much empty handed.

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

Viola sighed, “I know.”

Tanya cocked her head to the side. Viola wondered if anyone had ever told her she looked like a puppy when she did that.

“How did you know?” Tanya asked as she straightened herself up, using the wall as a crutch.

Viola smirked, “Your friend may not be able to read, but I can. You were flapping that paper around like you were a duck with a blown-out wing.”

Tanya stood there and stared.

“I have no idea what that is supposed to mean,” she said.

Viola smiled and looked down at the small girl struggling to stand before her. Her legs were still weak and shaking, they looked like toothpicks held together by jelly. She must be so scared of me, to follow me for so long with no clear goal or end in sight. Viola thought that Tanya reminded her a lot of the kids she had worked with back at home, full of fear and no way to get rid of it. Viola reached in her purse and started to dig around.

“I know you don’t trust me, and you have fair reason to not. You don’t know me, and I am not one to let people get to know me.”

From the depths of her purse, she found what she had been looking for, a lozenge.

“However, I promise you that I am trustworthy, and that you and I will probably become very good friends, and even team up against long legged Yosemite Sam from time to time.”

Tanya snorted. The comparison between Carmichael and Yosemite Sam was hysterical and accurate in all ways, except height and mustache of course. Viola reached out her hand and offered Tanya the lozenge. Tanya looked at it with doubt and distrust read cleanly on her face.

‘Here,” Viola said.

She unwrapped the lozenge, placed it in between her thumbs and forefingers and snapped it in half with one quick jerk. Then, she popped half in her mouth, and offering Tanya back the other half, said “it’s lemonberry.”

Tanya pondered the dubious lozenge, then shrugged. Viola was right, if she had wanted her to die, she would have pulled her into the alley and left her there. And don’t all great friendships start with attempted murder? That’s how she had met Carmichael. She took the lozenge out of Viola’s hand and popped it in her mouth. Though, she thought it tasted more like lemon than it did berry.

Viola helped Tanya back to her apartment before resuming her walk to the hotel. Carmichael had apologized for Tanya’s “psychotic” behavior, and they had both offered for her to stay the night, but she would have rather eaten a bag of sand and mopped the ocean than sleep on that floor. Viola kindly refused and said she would return in the morning. This time on her walk, Viola thought about home. The way the rain would roll against her tin roof. The smell of the honeysuckle in the humid air. How she would bake bread on Sundays, and the way the hearth stayed hot for hours after. She longed to return to her warm shack, lost in the woods and fields. Her home had been her safe haven, her place of power. Now, home would be wherever she could make it. She would settle into this new city and make a new one. Maybe she would find a home with the strange vampire cowboy, the tiny werewolf girl in gym shorts, and their mysterious “fades in and out” roommate.

She would find out soon enough.